Knowledge Is Power
by Nutty as a fruitcake
Summary: Harrison has the uncanny ability to attract trouble in every shape. A sociopathic roommate that refuses to let him go is just the tip of the iceberg. A story about loss, obsession and passion.
1. I

**Disclaimer: **I am not J. K. Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:**

There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fanfiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC/Harry

**Summary:**

Harrison Law was born in 1926, in a mediocre town, during a mediocre year. He is utterly insignificant - until he discovers that he is a wizard. After suffering years of disrespect from his family and peers, Law is ready to do whatever it takes to gain the respect he believes he deserves. However, an unpredictable sociopath named Tom Riddle may prove to be an obstacle. TMR/HP. AU. OOC/Harry.

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><p><strong>Introduction<strong>

**1937**

Harrison was standing silently outside his mother's apartment, leaning up against a greasy brick wall just a few meters from the front door. He had been standing at the exact same spot for hours while the temperature had gradually been dropping with the sun's descent down the blue sky.

The thin cotton jacket and too big T-shirt he wore gave an impression of a small homeless child, seeking refuge in the empty streets. Similar to the homeless, he also had way too little clothes for a cold season such as February; his short boxers and old shoes would, without a doubt, have gained him sympathetic glances if a person of higher standing were to stroll past him.

Harrison shivered lightly as he tried to shield his small body from the ruthless cold, obviously failing miserably. His school satchel was abandoned by the front door, protected from the rain if it inconveniently decided to fall as it had done hours before.

The sky was dark, as the sun had set about an hour earlier; the only light source of the dirty street were some poorly lit lamps. Though if one were to glance up, one would notice another light source: a small open window where not only light streamed out, but also the soft sound of classical music. Classical music - a musical subgenre that many would agree had no place in the street Harrison lived.

The mentioned street was dark, dirty and so many people had been killed there that no one in their right mind moved there willingly. Though luckily for the business around this disturbing place, it was close to the Soho area, so customers there were enough of.

Harrison glared heatedly up at the open window, secretly praying that an earthquake would accidentally hit the apartment. Surely then she would open the door. Letting out a sigh, he sank down on the moist pavement, wetting his boxers in the process.

Laughter blended in with the music, and Harrison looked up just as the window was closed, erasing any chance of contacting the people inside. If something happened, then he was all on his own, locked outside his own home. It was far from safe in his neighbourhood, especially so for a 10-year-old child.

He knew why the front door was locked - his mother always locked it when she was working, and unluckily enough she had clients almost all the time lately. Sometimes it was a wonder that he was her only child, since she was sleeping with half the city every year. Her mind lacked so many brain cells that he thought it was a miracle he had been born with a naturally gifted mind. Maybe he had gotten some healthy genes from his father?

He brought his most expensive belonging out of his pocket, a watch he had stolen years ago. According to the watch, it was over 6 o'clock, which meant he had been outside for at least two hours.

"Fuck" He whispered to himself. It was no wonder he was freezing cold. No, most people would have been cold if they had been locked outside of their own house for hours at the beginning of February. It would have been so much easier for them both if she had left him at an orphanage or gone to an actual brothel to work. Surely she was bright enough to know that it was far from ideal to take clients home when she had a child.

Another 20 minutes had gone by before Harrison was startled out of his thoughts by a small click from the front door. It had been unlocked, but whether that meant that his mother was finished or not, he did not know.

Standing up with some difficulty, he tried to shake the numbness out of his legs. The front door swung open, and a man in his fifties strolled out, walking straight past Harrison, not even glancing at him before disappearing into a black alley. Harrison stood still for a moment, sending hateful glares after the disgusting man before turning hesitantly to look towards the now open door. His mother was leaning up against the doorframe absolutely naked, the only accessories a pair of earrings.

"My sweet, sweet child. What are you doing outside?" She sang in a sickly sweet voice as though she had not locked her only child outside her house for hours.

Harrison stared irritatingly at her. "I was late from school..." He lied as he glanced away from her appearance; he had no wish to look at her any longer. Even if he told her the truth it would not be of any help; she had never cared until now.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, either trusting his words or not caring enough to mention his blatant lies. "Then you haven't eaten, right? Why don't you come inside? Momma will make some yummy food..." He ignored her, walking into the house.

Harrison had absolutely nothing against prostitutes; it was just his mother who disgusted him.

As he heard the door being closed behind him, he all but ran towards his room. Closing the door hurriedly, he locked it before breathing out, relieved. As he had predicted, seconds later a loud knock was heard against the old wooden door.

"Hari - baby! Come eat with momma." She slurred, obviously drunk. Or maybe it was drugs today. There was no telling what the men gave her.

"I am not hungry, mother." He replied lazily as he picked a book up from the floor. He had yet to finish reading it, so instead of eating his mother's inedible cooking, he would read the rest of it.

He sat heavily in the only chair in his room, opening his book. Harrison did not bother changing his dirty clothes - who would benefit from it? All his other clothes were just as dirty; the result of a neglecting mother.

"Hari! Please come out... ugh... Why won't you?" It sounded as though she was crying; he hated it when she cried. It was impossible to read anything when she was so noisy.

Sighing heavily in defeat, he stood up from the old chair. Harrison knew he would regret his decision to follow her pleas when he had to empty his stomach later that night. She somehow managed to make poisonous food from perfectly good ingredients.

"Alright..." He mumbled as he strolled up to the door, hesitating for a moment before he unlocked it. She tumbled inside at once, hugging him tightly to her chest; Harrison lost balance resulting in them both falling to the floor. His mother's head was laying at his shoulders, and she was leaning all over him, knees on both sides of his thin body.

Her tears soaked into his shirt; he shifted uncomfortably. Hugging or anything that required bodily contact was not something he valued. It was confining to have a human being so close, not knowing whether it would end in bodily harm. Harrison had little trust men.

She leaned backwards for a moment, staring warmly into his eyes. "My sweet love, let's eat" She stood up, wobbling, and Harrison noticed a variation of liquids at her stomach before he glanced away, disgusted, trying to convince himself that he was used to such sights.

Harrison studied his mother as he stood up to follow her. She had mascara all over her face, resulting in a quite horrendous appearance. His mother had without a doubt been a beautiful, maybe even breathtaking woman, at some point in her life, but there was little left of such characteristics after years of heavy drug and alcohol use, at least in Harrison's opinion.

She had long, coal-black hair framing her thin face and just as skinny limbs. It was the only thing passed down from her to him: thick, wavy, coal-black hair and long limbs. Everything else had to be from someone else - his biological father. Who he was Harrison would most probably never know. Because who would want him, the son of a whore?

When they arrived at the kitchen, she pushed him forcefully into a chair by the table. It was covered in used cups and bowls, there were even some condoms laying innocently between some newspapers.

Harrison wrinkled his nose in disgust, massaging his temples. Why him?

His mother smiled brightly at him as she all but danced over to the oven; it was a dreadful sight.

Glancing tiredly over the dirty table, he considered cleaning it, but, after staring at the condoms, he reconsidered.

The telephone rang, and she jumped over to it, ripping the phone up to her ear. It was incredible that she even had the money to buy a phone, considering how expensive they were. She always used money on objects they did not need.

"Hi, this is Cassandra Law!" She beamed at whoever answered at the other end of the line, strolling up to the fridge to get a beer. It had to be one of the rich bastards she was lucky to have over sometimes. They were one of the few people she was actually happy to see.

"Yes, of course, of course. Come whenever you want. I'm always here, ready to be taken..." Her voice was sickly sweet; Harrison despised it.

It seemed as though Cassandra had forgotten the hotplate as a burnt smell began to pollute the room. Harrison stumbled out of his chair, turning off the plate before glancing curiously towards his mother. She was still in deep conversation; not seeing anything out of the usual. He would not be surprised if she killed herself the moment he moved out of the house; she had no self-preservation.

Looking annoyingly down at the now inedible dinner, he decided that throwing it away was, without a doubt, the best thing to do. Better to go hungry than get sick from eating it.

Harrison glanced up at Cassandra. "Mother, I'll just go to sleep. The food's not edible anymore, so I'll just eat some crackers." He mumbled, though it was obvious she did not hear him, so he retrieved some crackers from the shelf before making his way to his room.

It always went like this when she tried to do something motherly: with her forgetting him.

As he entered his room, he was careful to lock the door again. He felt empty, abandoned and somewhat angry. Closing his eyes forcefully he slumped down in his bed. His birthday was only hours away, and even though he knew his mother would forget it again this year, he could not help but dream of her celebrating it together with him.

Everything would, without a doubt, continue as it had always been, without a change. He would study to improve himself while still going to bed hungry.

Nothing would change.

Harrison had always believed that it would take years before he could escape his mother and the surroundings in which he lived. Though fate had always loved to prove him wrong.

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><p>Harrison awoke early morning February the 3rd, because of unusual sounds originating from his window. Shuffling under his thin blanket, while silently cursing the source of the irritating sounds, he glanced at his watch. It was not more than six in the morning.<p>

It was way too early, considering he did not go to school on his birthdays. His day of birth was the only day of the year where he allowed himself to fully relax. He never received anything from other people on his birthday, which was why he always gave himself something: a day to rest.

Harrison tried to ignore the annoying sounds, but as he realised that it would not disappear by waiting, he decided to act. Glancing up towards his window, he nearly fell out of his bed from the sight that greeted him. Harrison Law, eleven years of age, was sitting in his bed early in the morning, staring at a live owl in the middle of London.

Swallowing, he blinked several times, just to be certain he was not imagining it. No, there was an owl there. As he studied it, he saw that it was gripping some kind of paper between its claws. It looked like a letter. Could owls be used as message birds?

He carefully opened the window and was surprised when the owl flew straight into his room, landing on his chair. Harrison stared wide-eyed at the strange bird, and it somehow seemed like it stared back.

After a while, it shuffled its feathers as it held out its claw, probably indicating that he should retrieve it. Not knowing what else to do, he carefully went over to it to snatch the letter from the bird's claws. The owl hooted before sweeping out of the window, leaving Harrison alone in his room wondering if he was dreaming.

He glanced down at the letter in his hands and was surprised by the excellent quality of the paper. Whoever had sent it to him had way more money than he did, that was for sure. Both his name and address were written neatly at the front, so he did not wonder whether he had received someone's else letter. Slipping the paper out he skimmed the letter:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster_

_Armando Dippet_

_Dear Mr. Law,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Because of your blood status as Muggleborn, we will send a representative teacher to inform you about Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Harrison swallowed nervously, staring disbelievingly down at the letter. It had to be a joke, as the contents of the letter made no sense logically. He did not appreciate being mocked.

He was fully aware that he could do things considered impossible, but it did not make the letter any easier to believe.

For a moment, he wondered if his mother knew anything and if it was clever to ask her, though he did not want to share anything with her so it was out of the question.

As he once again laid down into his bed, he heard someone knock on their front door. The house was horribly old so every sound could clearly be heard in his room. It had to be one of his mother's clients and not the teacher as it still was extremely early in the morning. It had to be one of the rich people; they always came early. After all, they did not want to be caught together or outside the house of a prostitute.

"They must do it when everyone else is sleeping," he said softly to himself.

Though he was not much better than them, he too kept a nice looking mask on his face, refusing to show the real one to anyone.

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><p>Harrison had fallen asleep at some point and was woken up by the sounds originating from his mother and her client. She was always horribly loud.<p>

He was not stupid; he understood perfectly well what she was doing with the men that came to her. It was something he had gotten used to as he grew up with the sounds and smells of sexual intercourse.

His stomach growled loudly, but he had no intention of getting some food from the kitchen. To get to the kitchen, he had to walk past the living room in which Cassandra did her work. The reason was not that he was embarrassed to see her in such acts, the problem was that the men did not appreciate being seen in their sinful act. Harrison had felt their fists enough to know never to disturb them again.

He could always take the small amount of money he had saved up, climb out of the window and go to the store for some food. Although if he went out then there was a possibility that he would miss the teacher's visit.

"Why can't I just have a healthy mother with a normal job?" he sighed, trying to go back to sleep, though it was no easy feat with the moans and screams.

Giving up he picked up his book from the floor and began reading, patiently waiting for his guest to arrive. If they came today at all, that was. Nothing had been written about when the teacher would come, so he thought it would be best to be ready at any moment.

Hours later and a stomach hurting from hunger, he glanced at his watch. It was about to become ten o´clock. Harrison felt a bit foolish. For all he knew, it was a huge joke, there would be no teacher knocking on his door. Maybe they came another day? It was difficult to say.

Harrison was just about to decide that it was idiotic to expect anything from such a letter when three clear knocks were heard. Jumping out of his bed and crossing his fingers that this was not another of his mother's clients, he all but ran down to the front door.

Standing in front of the door, he heard his mother's moan and a man's laugh. Harrison knew that it would be rude not to invite the teacher inside, if it was the teacher, but it would be so irritating listening to his mother while trying to talk.

There was another knock and Harrison opened the door carefully. On his doorstep stood an old man, probably in his 60s, with long auburn hair and half-moon glasses. The man had an old brown suit on, looking incredibly old fashioned and Harrison wondered if the man was fond of antique things and fashion. After all, no one wore such clothes in this era.

Harrison studied him for a moment, noticing something 'strange' about him. Something that had no place on the doorstep to his mother's apartment, no place in the world he knew.

"Hello. Mr. Law, I presume." It was not a question, more like a statement. He brought his hand out, and Harrison could do nothing but stare at it. Most people never wanted to shake hands with him. Shaking himself out of it, he took the offered hand.

"Pleasure, Mr…?" He looked into the man's twinkling blue eyes.

"Ah, of course. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmaster for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harrison stared blankly at him but kept his calm when the old man said the name of his school. He did not want to come off as a person that could easily be read. To be easily read could get you in deep trouble, he had learned early.

He did not know if he should invite the man inside or not, but before he could decide, Dumbledore beat him to it. "Maybe we should go inside to discuss this, it is rather cold outside today. I even believe it will begin to rain later!" He smiled warmly at Harrison.

Sighing, Harrison opened the door and stepped aside so that the man could enter. He felt a bit embarrassed about the condition of his house; it was not good, that was certain. It was gloomy and dark, with spiderwebs decorating the walls where the tapestry was peeling off revealing rotting wood. The furniture was dusty and was falling apart in certain areas. It was a horrible sight.

"All right, but I think we should take it in my room. I don't believe my mother would appreciate us intruding when she's working." While Harrison explained this, moans and the sound of two people moving against each other could be heard from the living room. Dumbledore had quieted down and was staring at the door leading to the living room. It was probably not every day he went to visit such a family, if they could be called a family.

"Very well, but don't you want your mother to hear about the school offer? It is very a prestigious school, and you will most definitely have a bright future ahead of you after graduating from Hogwarts! Any mother would be pleased that their child got such an offer!" He was only trying to be polite. Harrison wrinkled his nose; only the thought of having to share something like this with is mother disgusted him.

"No, it's all right," he replied in a strict tone, letting Dumbledore know that there was no room for discussion. He turned around, expecting the Professor to follow him, and walked up to his room. Letting the man inside, he readied a chair for him and settled himself on the side of his bed since he had only one chair in his room.

"So, what exactly is this school offer about, Mr. Dumbledore?" He was curious but tried not to sound like he was. Dumbledore smiled at him, and Harrison felt like a child in front of the man. He was a child, he knew that, but having grown up in his environment, he hated the feeling of being inferior.

"As I said before, I am the Deputy Headmaster for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are a wizard, Mr. Law, and we would be grateful if you would come to our school and learn how to control your magic." Harrison was left speechless, but he knew that the man was not lying. He had done unexplainable things so it was not entirely unrealistic.

Once he had brought his neighbour bully down to his knees in pain from hateful thoughts only. Another time, he had transported himself to the school roof. They were just a few examples of unusual things happening around him.

He swallowed and thought about the power he could have if he could control his power, or magic as it was called. Looking down at his hands, he saw endless possibilities.

"Where is the school, and how would you expect me to pay for the equipment we need for the year? I am expecting it to be quite expensive if your school is as good as you say it is. As you can see, we are a bit short on money in this family." His mother always used the money she earned on things she needed, like clothes, drugs or alcohol. The truth was that he was short on money, but the professor did not need to know that. He always felt ashamed that he had almost no money.

"Hogwarts is a boarding school, so you can live there all year except the summer vacation. Regarding the money, the school gives out a stipend to poor students so that you may buy everything you need for the school year. Though, since we don't have a big sum of money to give away, you will be forced to buy used equipment. I am sorry." He took off his glasses and used his coat to clean them while he spoke. He put on his glasses again and glanced down at Harrison. "I believe that you have gotten your letter with an explanation about what you have to buy?" The old man had been smiling the whole time, and it irked Harrison that the old man could keep it in place while talking.

"Yes, I have." Harrison hoped the meeting would be over soon. He had heard enough; he wanted to explore the new world by himself.

"Would you like someone to accompany you for your shopping or do you want to go alone? If you do wish to go alone, I will write a check to you so you can take out the money at the bank yourself. I will also write a description on how you can get to Diagon Alley, where you can get everything you need." Harrison took a while to answer him, thinking whether he needed a guide or not.

"I will go alone, Mr. Dumbledore." He gave a small smile to the professor, hoping that the man would not realise that he was faking it.

"Very well." The Professor fished up some papers from his pocket, signing a check before giving it to Harrison.

"Ah, sir. What kind of transportation will I use to get to the school? There is nothing written in the letter." It would not do if he did not know how to get to the school in September.

"Of course, I'm sorry. I have some papers explaining it…" Dumbledore gave him some folded papers from his pocket. How did he have space for so many things in such a small pocket? "You have to go to King's Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾." Dumbledore glanced at his watch and stood up.

"I believe that I should go now. It has been a pleasant visit, Mr. Law. Please give my apologies to your mother since I could not greet her." Harrison almost snorted but managed to cover it up with a cough. Like anybody of the Deputy Headmaster's standing would feel like apologising to a whore.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Dumbledore." No, it was not like she would ever listen to him anyway. Harrison stood up to follow the Professor to the door. They walked past the door to the living room, and his mother's voice could be heard.

"Yes! Please, master… ah… " Harrison pondered over if it was still the same client as the one he had heard this morning. He wondered if he should apologise for his mother's behaviour, but decided against it. Harrison opened the front door for the Professor and gave a small nod to him.

"Thank you for your visit, Mr. Dumbledore. I'll see you on the 1st of September." He wanted to close the door and get ready for his trip to Diagon Alley at once, but he wanted to be polite, so he waited.

"It was pleasant to meet you, Mr. Law. Just send an owl if you have some questions; we are always happy to help." He gave Harrison a small smile and walked a few meters from his front door, before disappearing with a crack.

Harrison's eyes went wide, and he ran out to the spot where the professor had stood. He searched for some sign that the man had been standing there seconds before, but found nothing.

"I have to learn that…" His eyes sparkled excitedly. Standing in his dirty boxers he had used the day before and his T-shirt, Harrison Law decide that he would become someone big. He would become a person people would respect. Even if he had to make them fear him, Harrison wanted respect and power, far away from his whore of a mother.

Though how Dumbledore expected him to send an owl if he had questions, he could not understand.

**To be continued**

**Please Review! Don't be afraid to be blunt or critical. I appreciate all critiques.**


	2. II

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:**

My native language is not English.

There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fanfiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP, OOC/Harry, AU.

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews I have gotten so far!

A link to an illustration of Cassandra Law can be found at my profile.

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><p><strong>Out With the Old and In With the New<strong>

Harrison woke up Saturday the 6th, three days after Dumbledore's visit. He had not had the time to go to the so-called "Diagon Alley" because he had school and no way of easily getting there. He had looked at his mother's calendar, which always hanging in on the fridge, and saw that she was supposed to go to the café the following Saturday, so he waited. Harrison did not know if he could call it a "café", but it was not a brothel either.

The café, Esmeralda, was a meeting point for a lot of people with the same occupation as his mother. It was quite popular for both women and men, so the prostitutes often went there to find new and exciting clients. Esmeralda's customers were usually the kind of people with a bit of money in their pockets, which was why many women of the night loved the place. Most people could not stand them, especially the police, though they only disliked the whores during their own working hours.

Finding his best and cleanest pair of clothes, which were not as clean as he wanted them to be, Harrison made himself ready for the day to come. Harrison was not foolish. He was aware that he was quite a handsome young boy, but his awful clothes destroyed his charm. He sighed. The whole point in charming people into getting what he wanted would never work if he continued to look like a beggar. Listening after noises in the house, he could hear his mother walking in another part of the building. It seemed like having a badly isolated house could sometimes be a positive thing. She was always so noisy, even when she did not have customers.

Unlocking the door to his room he walked slowly to the kitchen, hoping there was something to eat. He was starving. Entering the kitchen he could see a white cardboard box on the dirty table. It contrasted incredibly with the messy kitchen, and from the looks of it, nothing other than food could be inside it. Opening it, he saw three of the most delicious looking sandwiches he had ever seen. Licking his lips, he looked behind himself, afraid that his mother would walk in and take them from him. Harrison took out a sandwich and took a big bite from it, closing his eyes in enjoyment. After a few minutes, it was gone, and he began on the second one. It had been ages since he had had something this good. His mother used to get presents from some of her clients, but when it was food she never shared with him. Cassandra did not usually buy food for herself, which resulted in her being very thin, so when she was given something edible it disappeared at once. Though, because of her alcohol and drug use, she was usually never hungry. Maybe she only ate it because she did not want to share. Picking up a newspaper from the floor and taking out a page, he packed the last sandwich inside it. Harrison looked around the kitchen and saw his satchel by the door. Had he forgotten it there yesterday? Stuffing the sandwich inside it, he relaxed. Only moments later came his mother walking inside in only her undergarments. She saw him and walked up to him to give him an uncomfortably crushing hug. Why did she always have to hug him?

"Baby! Why are you awake so early?" She smelled of strong and cheap perfume. Harrison wanted to puke; the scent was way to strong. It was a new habit she had developed. Cassandra almost never used perfume before, but after she had received an expensive one from a client, she began using it every day. She had never learned when a bit of perfume became too much.

"Mother, I want to go with you to Esmeralda today." He took a step back so he could look her in the eyes. He was impressed; she seemed sober.

She glanced down at him. "Why? Don't you have school today? Oh, how cute you are!" She kissed his nose. She always did random things like that.

"No, I do not have school today… it's Saturday." She furrowed her eyebrows and glanced towards the fridge where her calendar was.

"Is it? Are you sure, baby?" She looked at him like he was a bit stupid. Harrison dried off the lipstick on his nose and nodded. "Yes, I am sure, mother. Can I go with you?"

"Of course, Hari. You know everyone loves you at Esmeralda!" Harrison knew, and he hated it. They were not the kind of people he wanted to love or respect him. She did not wait for him to say anything else and walked up to the cardboard on the table. Opening the lid she became quiet.

"Harrison, who ate my sandwiches?" He swallowed; it was never good when she did not use his nickname. He looked at her as she walked up to him again. Cassandra stood towering over her eleven year son, no longer smiling or in a good mood. She took a hard grip on his hair and pulled.

"…Ugh…" He bit his lip, so he could not make a sound. Crying out meant weakness.

"You must never eat Momma's food. Do you understand?" He kept quiet, not making a sound. She pulled harder when he did not answer. He grunted; it hurt.

"Do you understand?! Eating my food is stealing, are you a thief, Harrison?!" He shook his head. It was better to do as she said, unless he wanted something unpleasant to happen.

"Yes, Mother." She let go of him and smiled sweetly. She was very unbalanced, that was for sure. One second she was happily smiling at him, and the other one pulling the hair out of his skull.

"That's a good boy." Patting his head like a dog, she walked out of the kitchen. Harrison lifted his satchel up and walked to the front door to get ready. Gritting his teeth, he kicked the door. He despised feeling weak.

He had been waiting for about an hour before his mother had been ready to go. Cassandra was dressed in open and revealing clothes, which was hidden by a large brown jacket. The walk to the café took about 40 minutes, and it had been a horrible walk alone with his mother. Luckily enough, she did not say much.

Arriving in the dark alley that led to the café, his mother ran ahead of him, leaving him alone. It was almost like she wanted him to be kidnapped or something similar. Sighing, Harrison walked slowly after her towards Esmeralda. The restaurant was located in a dark alley, hidden from anyone not knowing where it was. A small green sign and a small lamp were the only things that lit up the door into Esmeralda. It was early morning, but the light could not enter the alley because of the roof placed above. Just outside of the door, there stood four or maybe five young women smoking in transparent clothing, all of them women he had seen before. His mother sometimes had parties at home with her co-workers, so he had met quite a few of them.

One of the women's faces lit up when she saw Harrison. "Harrison! Did you come here with your mother? I just saw her. She didn't say anything about you coming here today. Oh, let me guess, you're going to surprise her?" She smiled widely at him; her yellow teeth disturbingly disgusting in her big mouth.

Harrison walked past her, giving her a nod. "Yeah." Let them believe what they wanted to.

Opening the heavy door into the café with some difficulty, he slipped inside. It was dark, only lit up by the many stearin candles standing all over the place. Harrison liked the interior of the café. Laughter and voices were everywhere, like buzzing bees. Looking around and failing to find his mother, he decided to walk up the bar counter. Jumping up on one of the tall chairs standing by the counter, he laid his head down on the table. It was made of wood and was very clean. It was nice to see clean things for a change.

"Do you want anything to drink? It'll be free like always, darling." Glancing through his hair, he saw the landlady smiling down at him. She was the only one who acted decent around here, so he tolerated her. Esmeralda was a former lady of the night, who somehow had managed to marry a rich man. It was looked upon with envy by many other prostitutes, but she never seemed to care. He had heard that she opened the café to give the prostitutes a safe place to be. Whether it was true or not, he did not know.

She was a tall and a bit of a chubby woman with huge breasts. Her brown hair was up in a loose bun, and she always wore many different necklaces and other accessories. Even though she was a plump woman in her thirties, she was far from unattractive. It was better to be warm, kind and chubby than cruel, crazy and thin.

"Yes please, Mrs. Esmeralda." He did not know if it was her real name, but everyone called her that. Knowing exactly what he wanted she walked away into the kitchen door by the counter. Harrison gazed around the café, seeing naked women and intoxicated men. Classical music flowed through the room, lulling him into a relaxed state. This kind of surrounding no longer had any effect on him. He was used to it. After all, he had almost grown up in places like this.

He was startled when he saw a glass of milk being placed in front of him. "Enjoy, darling," Esmeralda said, smiling before she walked away again to attend to the other customers. Lifting it to his lips, he enjoyed the taste. Milk was something his mother rarely bought, which was a shame because it was not only delicious, but also healthy, or so he had heard. Finishing the contents of the glass, he rose from the chair, deciding he had spent enough time in the café. He had better things to do than listening to adults enjoying their time together. He fished the map he had made the day before from his pocket. He was supposed to go to a place called The Leaky Cauldron to enter Diagon Alley. It was just a 15 minute walk from Esmeralda, which was why he had followed his mother in the first place. Harrison tried to walk outside of the café unnoticed but only got to the front door before he was stopped.

"If it isn't little Harrison. Cassandra's boy, right?" Her voice was venomous. His mother was not well liked by other prostitutes because she often got the big fishes. She walked up in front of him, blocking the door. Harrison sighed. He never had any luck, did he?

"Yes. I'm Cassandra's child. Could you please move? I have some business to attend." He gave her a bright, fake smile, and it seemed like it put her off for a moment. Though, unluckily, she did not seem to want to give up. The woman straightened her back and looked down on him while a cruel smile spread across her face.

"You have business to attend? No one wants to do business with a whore's child!" She laughed loudly. She had a drink in her hand and brought it up to take a sip. She was clearly drunk. Rolling his eyes, Harrison took the opportunity and stepped past her running out the door.

"Hey! Wait up! Shitty child! Fuck!" She screamed after him. He fleetingly wondered if she wanted to quarrel with an eleven-year-old. Running out into the street, he brought up his map again. He kept his pace. The faster he ran, the faster he would arrive there. Harrison could not wait to see other wizards and witches.

* * *

><p>About 10 minutes after leaving the café, he could finally see The Leaky Cauldron. It was located at the corner of an old building, and it seemed like no one else but Harrison could see it. People walked past the café as though they were ignoring it, though there were a few people who actually entered it. He noticed that the people who entered it had different clothes from what he was used to. Swallowing, Harrison walked towards The Leaky Cauldron feeling his heart rate rising. Taking a tight grip of the handle, he opened the door.<p>

He could feel it at once, the power and magic polluting the air. Taking a deep breath to be sure that he actually could breath, he walked up to the counter. The Leaky Cauldron was an entirely different place than Esmeralda and any other café he had been to before. It was much more proper. People were sitting at tables, reading their newspapers and drinking coffee. There were no half-women and drunk men, just people acting like normal people did. Harrison liked it. He read over the note Dumbledore had given him to be sure he did not embarrass himself by doing something wrong.

An incredibly old man was standing behind the counter making some coffee. To the left of the old man there stood a younger man, most likely his son or someone related to him because they had a lot of common features.

Harrison slowly strolled up to the counter and breathed in. He hoped wizards acted the same way as ordinary people did. "Excuse me. Could you help me?" The younger man turned around, smiling brightly. He looked over Harrison's head, not seeing him as he was quite small. The young man glanced a bit confusedly towards the other end of the bar, as though he was checking if there was someone there.

Seeing no other choice, Harrison coughed loudly. The younger man looked down over the counter, and Harrison noticed his cheeks colouring a bit.

"I'm so sorry! What can I help you with?" The older man behind the younger one also noticed Harrison and turned around.

The old man looked intensely at him before a small smile spread across the wrinkled face. "Hello, lad. Are you new here?" Harrison only nodded, afraid to say something stupid. The younger man looked kindly over at the old man and brought a hand to rest at his shoulder.

"Father, leave the boy alone! You're frightening him!" It was said jokingly, and they both laughed at whatever deep meaning laid behind the words. So they were father and son.

The white-haired man slapped the younger man's hand away from his shoulder sloppily. "Tom. How can an old man like me scare this strong boy." He locked his eyes with Harrison trying to be funny. The younger man smiled at his father. It seemed like they had a good relationship. Lucky them.

"My name is Tom, and this is my father, William, he owns this place." He pointed to himself and his father as he said it. Tom leaned over the counter and looked down on Harrison.

"So, what can I help you with?" William laughed and turned away from them, making Tom look at him.

"What, father?" Harrison felt left out and was beginning to lose his patience. William turned around, now with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"The boy needs help to open the door to Diagon Alley. Why else would he come here alone?" William lifted his eyebrows and brought his coffee up to his mouth. Tom turned to Harrison.

"Is that true?"

Harrison nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Tom's face lit up. "Well then, follow me!" This man was way too childish and happy. Tom was not a tall man; he had broad shoulders and short brown hair. He looked like he was at the end of his 30s. He turned around and walked towards the door at the end of the café; Harrison had not choice but to follow him. He would not miss this opportunity.

"Is this your first time in Diagon Alley?" Tom glanced over his shoulder as they walked. Harrison looked up at the man's back, nodding.

"Yes, a note Mr. Dumbledore gave me said that you had a passage into Diagon Alley…?" It came out as a question, but Tom only smiled as he opened the door. It lead into a small room, and Harrison noticed that there were no doors or openings in it. A dead end. So he was being tricked, was he not?

"Sir, there is no door here…" Tom laughed and took something looking like a stick out of his pocket.

"Watch." He did not say anything more as he brought the stick up to the brick wall and tapped it on some particular bricks. Whatever Harrison had been expecting, for the wall to disappear was not it. Harrison almost gaped, but kept his face expressionless. Tom looked disappointed down at him. He probably thought it was funny to see first-time people lose their cool. Harrison looked up at Tom and gave him a smile. Most people liked to be smiled at, right?

"You're not the type to be surprised… are you." It was not a question.

"No… I am sorry." Tom glanced surprised down at him.

"No, no, it's nothing to apologise for!"

"All right… Thank you for your help, sir." Harrison looked into the crowded street. He wanted to look around more than anything now.

Tom smiled widely. "No problem, lad. See you!" He said as he pushed Harrison out into the busy street. Harrison stumbled and struggled to keep his balance. Turning around, he could see that the opening once again had become a brick wall. Did the man have to push him?

Diagon Alley was nothing like he had expected. What Harrison was looking at was an entirely new world, nothing like the one in which he had grown up.

* * *

><p>Harrison tried to relax. He had decided to lean up against the wall of one of the many shops in the alley. He read over the paper explaining what he had to buy. It was a long list, and he hoped he had time to buy it all before the shops closed. Did the shops in the wizarding world close at the same time as in the non-magical one?<p>

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Alfreda Fay Norwood_

_Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

Sighing, he stuffed the paper back into his pocket. He had to go to the bank first, that was for sure. Looking around the alley, he tried to find a sign that would tell him where to find a bank. His eyes were drawn to a large white building; it looked as though it had been inspired by Roman or Greek architecture. On a large sign was written 'Gringotts Wizarding Bank'. Smiling to himself, he began to walk towards the building. Walking up some stairs, he entered a pair of burnished bronze doors. By the door there stood a little man, a dwarf maybe, in an uniform of scarlet and gold. He did not move when Harrison strolled past him, staring stupidly at the creature. Harrison came into a small entrance hall, and before him there are a pair of closed silver doors where it was written:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harrison raised an eyebrow. They certainly seemed nice. Walking up to the silver doors, he intended to give them a strong push to open them, but the doors opened by themselves when he came close. It was like nothing he had seen before. Behind the doors, there was a vast marble hall with long counters stretching along both its sides. At the end of the hall, there was a small, lonely bar. At every counter sat small men scribbling away, creating a buzzing noise. Swallowing, Harrison began to walk in a slow pace towards the end counter, hoping it was the right one. He hoped he was right. He could feel the eyes of the small men on him and tried to act as though it did not bother him. Coming up to the counter, he looked up at the dwarf who was scribbling at some paper, not noticing him.

"Excuse me?" The man looked up from what he was doing and glanced irritatingly down at Harrison.

"I would like to withdraw some money…" He took the check he had gotten from Dumbledore and gave it to the dwarf. Looking at the creature, he remembered that he had read a book about fantasy creatures some years ago. In the book there had been small men, called goblins. Glancing back at the creature in front of him, who was now checking his check, he decided that it could not be anything else but a goblin. Though he would not ask, for there was a chance that he was wrong. Harrison did not know how reliable non-magical books were.

"Very well, go to counter four to receive your money." The goblin gave him a paper written in some weird language and went back to his work, ignoring Harrison again. Looking around, he saw a counter with a small four sign on it and walked up to withdraw his money. He handed the paper to the man, who seemed just as irritated as the first one. He told him to wait and walked away. As he stood there, he glanced around the hall and met eyes with three people entering the building. Just by looking at them, he could see that they had money, and probably a lot of it judging by their clothes and attitude. They had to be related because every one of them had the same blonde hair. His eyes met with the eldest person, a man in his 40s. The man looked over him but looked away in disgust after some seconds analysing Harrison's clothes. Harrison gritted his teeth, not understand why the man looked at him with disgust when he knew nothing about him. The goblin came back, and Harrison took the money not bothering to say thank you. He marched out of the hall, wishing the blonde man would stumble on the marble floor and hit his head, hard.

* * *

><p>After trying and failing to find the secondhand-store, Harrison decide to ask someone. He carefully approached a pair of wizards who were standing closely, whispering together. Harrison unconsciously straightened his jacket.<p>

"Excuse me, sirs. Do you know where I can find the secondhand store?" Their conversation ceased, and they looked down at Harrison. Both glanced over his clothes and wrinkled their noses. They glanced into each other eyes before walking away. Harrison tried to keep his calm. He hated people who disrespected him and even more when he knew he had done nothing to deserve such treatment. Not giving up, he strolled up to the first person he saw: a woman, standing in front the showcase window of a jewellery shop. She probably dreamed about owning one or two of those beautiful gems.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Could you point me the way to the secondhand store?" She slowly shifted her eyes to him. She had shockingly red hair.

"What? Excuse me, I didn't hear what you said." She looked embarrassed.

Harrison tried not to show his irritation on his face. "Could you point me the way to the secondhand store?"

"Oh, of course. Well…You… wait, where was it again…? Oh, yes. You just have to follow the street down here and… turn left at the first back alley! You see over there?" He nodded. "Yes. It's easy, and if you can't find it, just come back here and I'll help you." She pointed him the way as she talked.

"Thank you, ma'am" He gave her a smile that she returned.

"Oh,yes… eh, have a good day…" She seemed embarrassed over something, but it was not his problem, so decided not to think much about it. Harrison walked away, following the woman's instruction.

He easily found the secondhand shop. Apparently it was called 'The Proudfoot's Secondhand for Wizards and Witches.' Entering the shop, he was hit with an old mouldy smell. The shop was incredibly messy. Books were standing in towers, clothes were hanging all over the walls, and small objects were lying all over the floor. It did not look like it was possible to find anything in this shop. Harrison wanted to leave, maybe find another secondhand shop, but this had to do. After all, he had almost no money to use, and he wanted to save some so he could buy himself something he wanted and not needed for a change. Seeing an empty counter he walked up to it and rang a small bell hanging at its side. The sound from the bell was loud and clear in the quiet room, and it had been so long since someone used it that a thick layer of dust flew out of it. A few seconds later an old woman came walking into the shop from a back-room. She smiled brightly, if a bit disturbingly, when she saw Harrison. Maybe he was the first customer in a while. Did wizards not use secondhand stores?

"How can I help you? I have almost everything a wizard could need… from chocolate frogs to brooms!" She had white, thin hair and large glasses covering her wrinkled face.

"Hello, ma'am. Could you help me find these items?" He showed her his list, and she leaned over the counter, almost laying all over it. "The cheapest you have, please." She took the papers from him and studied it closely while nodding to herself.

"You need to buy the wand at Ollivanders and the pet at the pet store, but I can get you everything else." She said after having read the note.

"That would be great, ma'am." She nodded and walked away without a word, probably to find everything he needed on the list. Harrison expected her to take a while to find everything on the paper, so he decided to look around the shop. He had counted over his money, and it seemed like he had enough money for some extra things which were not on the list. Looking over the books, he found some interesting titles. He kept on looking after something cheap and fascinating until the lady came back. When she did, she sat a small box on the counter. She gave him a price for everything, looking extremely pleased with herself. Harrison only became more sure that this place had very few customers.

"Is that everything?" Harrison asked, skeptical that everything he needed was in the small box. The old lady smiled and laughed at him.

"Oh, you are a Muggleborn, are you not? The box has more space than the eyes believe. Here, look." She opened the box, and he could see that; indeed, it had a much more space than he thought. The wonders of magic. Harrison nodded and gave her the books he had found so he could pay for those too. He paid her and was about to leave when he stopped. Muggleborn. She had said something about a Muggleborn.

"Excuse me. I hope you do not mind me asking, but what is a Muggleborn?" He hated not knowing, and he had to know.

"Oh, you don't know? Well, a Muggle is a non-magical person… so a Muggleborn is a magical child born from two non-magical individuals." She sat down at a chair behind the counter and gave him a small smile.

"Is there anything else you want to know? I have a very good book explaining everything in detail…" Harrison shook his head. He thanked her for her help and left the shop.

The wizarding world divided people into groups based on what kind of blood they had, or so it seemed. Harrison was born from two non-magical beings and, as a result, they called him a Muggleborn. Not even here he could escape being put into a box based on his social or, in this case, blood status. If this was the case, then Harrison would not be surprised if there were some prejudice connected to some of these blood statuses.

Then suddenly it made sense. Harrison could understand why some of the wizards he had met had acted strangely towards him. He had the blood of two people that had no connection to the magical world. He was almost an outsider, and the only reason he had been invited into the magical world to begin with was because he could do magic.

He had polluted blood. And there was nothing he could do about it. This was not some political opinion he could change, this status, Muggleborn, was something he never could run away from. Not in this life at least.

Though Harrison knew that he was different, even if he had Muggle blood inside him. He had something they would never have, and that was the drive to be powerful.

**To be continued!**

**Please review**


	3. III

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:**

There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP, OOC/Harry, AU

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews I have gotten so far!

* * *

><p><strong>So go ahead. Fall down. The world looks different from the ground.<strong>

Harrison was tired and wanted nothing more than to sit down in a café with the cheapest beverage possible, of course, and relax. He was not finished and had yet to buy all of the things for Hogwarts which were written down on his list. He really had no choice; he had to finish before he could relax. He walked out into the crowded street and tried to look after the wand shop, Ollivanders. It was incredible that so many stories about witches and wizards from the Muggles, as the magical population called them, really had a ring of truth in them. Witches and wizards actually had to use a wand to do different spells and magic in general.

He walked down the alley and past the pet shop. He stopped some meters after the shop and glanced behind himself. He had absolutely no interest in taking care of some irritating animal, but it would be interesting to see what species there were inside. Letting his curiosity lead him, he walked back to the pet shop. He hoped he would not regret going inside of it. The pet shop was smelly, very smelly, and Harrison regretted entering at once but decided to look around before leaving. There were a lot of different animals in the shop, even some species he had never seen before. Reading over his Hogwarts letter he saw that he could only buy an owl, a cat or a toad. He did not want to have any of those animals, and as he glanced over to a toad, he could not understand how any student would want such a disgusting creature. Harrison glanced at the prices of the animals and knew that either he would have to get the cheapest one or nothing at all. Deciding that the money could be spent on something better, he exited the horribly smelly and disgusting shop, vowing never to set foot inside again. When he exited the pet shop, he noticed Ollivanders on the other side of the smelly shop. He strolled a bit embarrassedly over to it, not believing he had almost walked past it earlier.

Entering the wand shop, he noticed how unnaturally quiet it was inside considering how noisy it was outside on the streets. Maybe they had some kind of spell to block out the noise. Standing still for a moment he looked around the shop and came to look into a mirror at the wall. Harrison saw himself. He could see his abnormally green eyes and his messy coal-black hair, which seemed styled even though he never touched it. He looked away from the mirror and straight into a pair of grey eyes. Harrison gave out a yelp and stumbled back into the wall. It felt like his heart would knock out of his chest, and he carefully glanced up through his hair. Whatever he had been expecting, an old man was not it. He had long white hair and was just a bit under average height. Harrison took a deep breath and tried to calm his beating heart.

"Hello," He did not know what else to say to the man. The old man did not answer and instead chose to stare curiously at Harrison. It became quiet once again inside the wand shop, the only sound being the two people's breath. Still leaning up against the wall, he glanced outside the window. He really wanted to be outside. He could not handle this awkward silence, but he tried not to show that he was uncomfortable. He would not show weakness to anyone. To react meant that he was losing the game.

"Are you here for a wand?" The man's eyes locked with Harrison's, green clashing with grey. Harrison swallowed and forced himself not to look away. Of course he was here for a wand. Why else would he come into a wand shop? The old man brushed some dust off his coat and turned around to walk up to the counter.

"Yes, I am. Mr...?" He wanted to put a name on the uncomfortable man. Realising that he was still leaning up against the wall, he took some steps towards the counter. He rubbed his shoulders as he had hit them quite hard when he fell into the wall earlier.

"Garrick Ollivander. And you are?" He seemed curious, and it made Harrison suspicious. There was no reason for a shopkeeper to want to know his name. Harrison was nobody in the Muggle world so there was no way he could be anything, at the moment, in the Wizarding World.

"Harrison Law. I'm here to buy a wand." It sounded foolish. Of course he was here to buy a wand, it was a shop specializing in wands. Ollivander hummed and turned to walk deeper into the shop. There were a lot of shelves, all of them reaching to the ceiling. Ollivander just walked through the passage the shelves were creating not looking at the contents of them. At one point, he stopped and picked out a long box from the shelf before going back to Harrison. Opening the box, he picked out the wand laying inside and gave it to Harrison. It was a strange feeling to have a wand in his hand; it felt too much like a stick.

"Try this." Harrison became confused, not understanding how he was meant to 'try it'. Before he could do anything at all, Ollivander grabbed the wand out of his hand.

"No, no, no." He said shaking his head. Harrison became even more confused; he could not understand the man in front of him. The old man ran back to the shelves and brought multiple boxes with him. This continued for another hour or so. Olivander kept getting new wands, giving them to Harrison before snatching them back again. Olivander looked into Harrison's eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

He scratched his forehead and licked his lips in concentration. "I wonder...," he whispered as he walked over to a smaller shelf by the counter. It seemed older than everything else in the already ancient shop. Carefully removing a dusty box from the shelf, he opened it carefully before giving the wand inside to Harrison.

"I believe this may be the right one...," Ollivander was almost whispering, and his eyes scrutinizing the young boy standing in front of him. Taking the wand in his hand Harrison felt a rush of energy going through his body. It was as though the wand was glowing, but nothing more spectacular happened and Harrison was unsure if he had only imagined it. Harrison stood quietly, only hearing his own breath and his heart beating inside his chest. Ollivander looked very serious and Harrison was startled when he looked away from his wand and back at the old man.

"What is wrong, sir?" Ollivander continued to look at him before a bright smile broke out on his face. Harrison did not know what to say; the man was way to unpredictable.

"It is an 11 inch, black walnut with a phoenix feather. Though, you should know the wand has its quirks. The wand loses power dramatically if you practise any form of self-deception or have any kind of inner conflict, but every wand has something so you should not worry about it." Ollivander gave him a small mysterious smile. The old man was talking about wands like they had their own personalities. Was that normal? It was difficult to say, because Harrison had not yet met so many wizards. He hoped he could understand people at his own age better than Ollivander. Though, maybe he had problems understanding because of the cultural differences. Yes, that had to be it.

"That'll be 7 Galleons." Harrison took out some of his money and gave it to Ollivander, secretly not believing how expensive a wand was. He was about to turn around and walk out of the shop when Ollivander called his name.

"Mr. Law, before you go, there is something you should know." He nodded his head at Ollivander signaling that he had heard him.

"I believe you are a Muggleborn, so I thought you should know that a wizard under seventeen is not allowed to use magic outside of school. That was all. Have a pleasant day," he said and disappeared behind the shelves. Harrison was shocked and angry that he could not use magic outside of school until he was seventeen. Though, he could understand that they had the rule, it would be dangerous if every student younger than seventeen could use magic whenever they wanted to. He certainly wanted to use it on people who deserved it if he could. Seeing as he was finished in the shop, he left the uncomfortable place, hoping he never destroyed his wand so he never had to come back to it again.

* * *

><p>Harrison stood outside of Ollivanders counting his money. He had bought everything he needed and could use the rest on anything he wanted. It was incredible because he usually never had money to use on things other than food to survive. Finishing counting, he realised that he had a relatively large sum of money left: 4 Galleons, 10 Sickles and 33 Knuts, to be precise. He considered walking back to Esmeralda or his house, but decided that he could do something he enjoyed for a change and go to a café without prostitutes. When he thought about it, he had never in his entire life been to a restaurant or café without prostitutes. He strolled, quite satisfied, down Diagon Alley looking after a café where he could sit down and have something to drink. He came to a halt in front of a small restaurant. Looking inside the window he could see chairs and couches with huge pelts and pillows. It looked very comfortable. It seemed like an expensive restaurant, but he decided to look at the menu which hanged on the door before deciding anything. Seeing that he could get a black coffee with the money he had without ruining himself, he decide to go inside. It was a mild temperature in the restaurant and there were few customers. He saw a big coach in the corner with huge pelts and walked over to it. Harrison had never been in a restaurant or any place so luxurious. Smiling to himself he sat down in the coach and wrapped a pelt around himself. He closed his eyes and relaxed. This had to be heaven.<p>

"What can I get you, sir?" Harrison jerked in surprise and looked up at the waitress. She smiled at him and tapped her pen at her notebook, indicating that she wanted him to order.

"I'll have a black coffee, please." She scribbled it down and looked back at him, apparently waiting for another order. It did not look like it was everyday someone ordered only a black coffee.

"That'll be all." She nodded and walked away. He relaxed back into the coach, and the pelt covered his entire body, hiding his Muggle clothes. It was nice, this way no one would know of his origin and therefore leave him alone. Harrison took his wand out of his satchel and studied it. He already liked it and felt deeply connected with it somehow. It was quite strange to have these kind of feelings towards a stick of wood. When he thought about it, he had no absolutely idea how they made wands. They had to do something special to make it possible for a wizard to get a connection to the wand. The black walnut was dark brown, shining in the light of the lamp on the table, and it was a slim wand. He laid it on the small table before him and brought his books out to decide which one to read. He decided to read "_The Pagan"_ because, apparently, it was an important religion in the wizarding world, especially for the Pure-bloods. Harrison knew he had to learn all about the new world he had entered if he wanted to survive.

The waitress came back to his table and gave him his black coffee along with a plate of cookies. "I'm sorry, but I did not order cookies." He said as he gave her the Sickles for the coffee.

"It's on the house," she said, smiling as she took the Sickles. He brought the cup of coffee up to his mouth and took a sip. It was bitter and he felt thankful that he had gotten some cookies.

* * *

><p>Looking at his watch, he noticed that the time was not more than 2 o´clock. It seemed like it was about time for lunch because customers had started entering and the buzzing noise of conversations had started to fill the restaurant. Most of the customers had fancy clothes and ordered huge amounts of food even though they only ate a small portion of it. Spoiled bastards. He looked at his coffee cup. It had gotten cold, but he drank it slowly so that he did not have to go. Harrison remembered his sandwich in the satchel and took it up so he could get something other than coffee into his body. He had read a long way into his book and was highly fascinated by the Pagan religion. He had been surprised when he had read that only the Pure-bloods practiced the religion. It was hard to believe that the religion and the rituals were practiced by such a small part of the wizarding population. Harrison fleetingly wondered if they practiced it at Hogwarts. He actually hoped they gave some kind of class in it so he could learn more. Fantasizing about special Muggleborn classes meant to educate them about the culture and politics of the wizarding world, he never noticed when someone walked up to his table, sitting down on a chair in front of him.<p>

"Hey, I have never seen you before." He looked up from his book and hoped it had looked like he only was reading and not fantasizing about something. It was a girl, about his age he believed, with long dark hair and a fair face. Looking at her, Harrison could not help but think she resembled someone he knew, but he could not remember who it was. He saw that she was dressed in fancy clothes, and it looked like she was the child to one or two parents with wizarding inheritance. He was so glad for the pelt over his own Muggle clothes. He had no illusion anymore, if she found out about his origin she would most probably walk away.

"Hello..." He gave her a charming smile, and she blushed. Some girls were so easy. She scooped her chair closer to his couch as Harrison laid his book at the table.

"My name is Walburga Black, a member of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black." She looked incredible proud and he gave her a faked surprised face. She probably wanted him to be surprised, so he would give her what she wanted. So, she was a Pure-blood. He thought back to the book on Pure-blood families he had bought in the second-hand store and became glad he had bought it. He would embarrass himself at some point if he continued to be so ignorant about the wizarding culture. Though, he was lucky this time. Walburga seemed so into her own pride that she would most likely not ask him about his own family. She seemed to come out of her self–admiration, and Harrison knew he had to do something to prevent her from asking about his family or name.

"So, you come here often?" Not the best way to avert her attention, but judging by her smile it had worked.

"Yes, all the time. I love the food and they always get my favorite newspaper, "Pure Politics Today", before I do, so what choice do I have?" He nodded back at her. It had not worked; he was too far behind her in knowledge about wizards. He wanted to leave. He knew that if he kept talking to this girl, he would not be able to hide that he was a Muggleborn. Though, when he thought about it, people finding out that he was a Muggleborn was far better than other people knowing what his mother's job was. If that ever got out, he would probably not know what to do.

"So what's your name? What line are you from, a pure one right? Since you have such a beautiful face I mean…" Harrison was startled. He did not know the Pure-bloods had some kind of typical face or look. He could not understand why she thought he looked like some rich wizard's child. He swallowed not knowing what to do. She smiled at him, awaiting his answer. Seeing no way out of his situation he decided to answer her. He would not get anything from lying so the truth it was.

"Harrison Law." He gave her a bright smile, hoping his nervousness did not show. Her face fell as though he had killed someone in front of her. Straightening her back she looked with scorn at Harrison.

"Harrison... Law?"

"Yes, that is my name." He was glad it was illegal for children under the age of seventeen to use magic, because she looked ready to curse him.

"You are a muggleborn." She stood up from her chair. Walburga glared at him for a moment before snatching his coffee cup from the table and pour the cold coffee over his head. Harrison's eyes widened in shock.

"How dare you talk to me! Filth!" She marched away from him saying nothing more through the now quiet restaurant. Everyone was staring at Harrison. Staring on the poor Muggleborn child who had got as he deserved for invading their privacy. He felt humiliated.

The waitress came running up to his table. With an incantation and a wave of her wand, she made the coffee dripping from Harrison's hair and the pelt disappear.

"I am so sorry, sir!" She looked honestly apologetic. He only nodded at her; she seemed worried at his behaviour, but chose to leave him alone. Harrison quietly packed his books and wand before leaving. The customers in the restaurant had begun talking again, but he could feel their eyes on him. Stepping outside he breathed out. Harrison wanted to cry; he hated this feeling. He wanted to be a part of the wizarding culture, so he knew he had to learn. Learn and earn their respect, not by being a part of some big noble family, but by being himself.

* * *

><p>Harrison had decided to walk back to Esmeralda after his humiliating experience. He had slowly strolled towards the café taking a different route than earlier. Therefore, it had taken much longer than it would have taken if he had walked the short way. Harrison could see the sun beginning to lower in the sky, and the temperature had fallen. It had begun to get cold, which was just fine by him. It reflected very good on his inner feelings. After a while he arrived at Esmeralda. He walked past the prostitutes at the front door, ignoring them, and entered the dark café. He felt tired and wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere and sleep. When he entered the café he walked into a corner to lay down on an empty coach. It smelled horrible; the smell of sweaty people sitting on it all day. It was noisy, and it did not feel like he would fall asleep anytime soon.<p>

He heard someone strolling towards his sanctuary. "Hari! Baby! Where have you been?" It was his mother, the last person he wanted to meet.

He rolled around so he could see her. Cassandra was leaning against an old man, who was groping her breasts. The man leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. She giggled, she was clearly intoxicated. Harrison did not bother sitting up from the coach, not giving her any space to sit down on. He wanted her to walk away so he could sleep.

"Baby! This is my lovely Arthur!" she said as she leaned in to give the man a deep and sloppy kiss. He could hear them making their disgusting noises and wrinkled his nose.

"Mother, I am really tired so could you do your work another place." He mumbled so he was not sure she heard him. The noises ceased, so he assumed she actually heard what he said for a change.

"Ah! My Baby is tired? Of course Momma will let you sleep in quiet!" Harrison felt her give him a hug. It was only when she gave him these kinds of hugs that he felt that she was his mother. He loved it when he did not need to see her face when she hugged him. If he did not see her, then there was no way he could see what she was working as, and then he did not have to be ashamed.

**To be continued**

**Please Review! Don't be afraid to be blunt or critical. I appreciate all critiques.**


	4. IV

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:**

There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC/Harry

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews I have gotten so far!

* * *

><p><strong>It's Better to Beg for Forgiveness than Ask for Permission<strong>

Harrison and bought every single thing required for Hogwarts on the 6th of February and would not return to the magical world until September. He had made himself a promise not to use any of the money he had left on unnecessary objects. The promise had originated from a goal he had set himself shortly after his visit to The Diagon Alley. The goal was simple: save up enough money to buy a small apartment as soon as he became an adult in the Wizarding World. The money would be invested in something good in the future, so saving them instead of buying interesting books or something similar was actually not as difficult as he had formerly believed. Harrison, at first, had a theory that he would spend all his money in one go, now that he actually had some because he was so unused to the concept of buying. Though, it seemed that his theory was incorrect, lucky enough.

Nothing unusual had happened the next months, or nothing worth remembering. His mother began drinking even more, unbelievably enough, and the moments where he could communicate with her normally had almost ceased from existence. It would have been great if Cassandra's problem had stopped there, but being who she was, she had to do something more. She had resurrected an old habit in which she brought home very violent men who, for no good reason, often took their aggressive feelings out on Harrison. It was humiliating to curl up on the floor with his hands held protective over his head as the retarded men did their thing. He was a wizard; he should have the power to protect himself, but he could not, only because of some stupid law regarding underage magic. Another problem had been the food supply. Cassandra began to forget to buy food, and he had to solve it by stealing from her. Stealing from her always ended with him almost losing his hair when Cassandra gripped his hair as punishment.

Although his home life was far from ideal, the situation in the other world was considerably better. School was nothing less than a saviour. A saviour from his mother, and he would gladly live in it if he had a choice. Lately, he had even been allowed to get a library card! The reason was that the teacher believed he was bright enough to study individually if he desired. Harrison enjoyed the feeling he got when people gave him some kind of respect, and it was even better when they actually acknowledged his intellect.

The only issue at school was his classmates. His jealous classmates. The boys just loved to show him how hard they could hit him. He began to dislike lunch time more and more until something unsuspected happened on the 4th of May. It had been like any other day where his classmates would try to punch his intellect out of his head. It was not very pleasant, that was for sure. He had been experimenting with magic lately. He tried to do magic without a wand, because Ollivander had not said anything about restrictions with underage magic without a wand, so he could always use it as an excuse if he was caught, which was unlikely to happen. It had all happened when the usual gang of boys had cornered him in the boy's toilet. The smelly part unfortunately. He got the idea to try to protect himself with wandless magic! Harrison had hoped to do something incredible, like disappearing just as Dumbledore had done, or even fly, but he was pleased with what he had done. Very pleased. Bringing the boys to their knees in some kind of agony had felt great. Though it was kind of disturbing that magic could do such things.

Nothing more noteworthy had happened since the beginning of his summer holiday. Nevertheless, there were movements in the outer world, that was for sure. On the 7th of July, the Japanese had gone in all out battle against the Chinese at the Marco Polo Bridge, located outside of the town Wanping. There had already been a conflict between the countries earlier, so it had just escalated from the incident at the bridge through the months following. Though it did not seem like many paid it a lot of attention in England. Articles about the battle never filled much.

Harrison was excited and so eager that he could not sleep, at all. It was August the 31st, a Tuesday, and he would be leaving for Hogwarts the next morning. He was actually leaving! Though there was a small problem, well maybe a big problem for some. Harrison had forgotten to tell his mother about Hogwarts.

She sat in the kitchen, probably drinking her last cup of beer for the day, and knew nothing about where he was going. He knew he should have told her the day he had gotten his letter, but did not want her to spread it to anybody. Cassandra had tremendous difficulties with keeping her mouth shut, so he could never trust his mother to keep a secret when she was drunk, actually not even when she was sober either.

Entering the kitchen he noticed his mother. She was actually sitting directly on the cold brick floor with a can of beer in her hand and a cigarette in her mouth. Her hair was dripping we; it seemed like she had just tried to clean herself. Harrison raised his eyebrows; it was unusual for her to wash herself. Maybe she was going to some special party. Harrison quietly sat down in front of her, thinking about how to tell her. He really wished he could talk to her when she was sober and not when she was so far gone. Hopefully, she was in a good mood.

"Mother?" She did not respond, choosing to ignore him and take a large gulp from her beer. It ran down her chin.

"Mother..." He was almost whispering it. Again, no response.

"I have something... imperative to tell you... so, please listen." Harrison was still being ignored. Not a good mood then? Glancing down at his hands, he tried to brush off the hurting feelings. Sometimes it would have been great if he had a mother who could actually notice him.

"What?" She snapped at him, sounding annoyed. Harrison thought that maybe he should wait to tell her.

He coughed. "Well, I forgot to tell you... but I have gotten this school offer… they're paying for everything so you don't have to worry about money! So, I will be leaving tomorrow..." He felt guilty, even though she had never done anything to earn his honesty.

"Harrison..." He glanced into her eyes. It did not seem like she was angry. Harrison felt a hopeful feeling blossom in his chest; maybe she would accept his decision for once.

"Moth—" The slap had been unexpected. He brought his hand up to touch his hurting cheek. She had slapped him with the back of her hand, and her many rings had scraped his cheek, drawing blood. It hurt. She usually never hit his face. Cassandra was angry.

"Mother?" He felt weak, like he was a small child all over again. She took a firm hold of his shoulder, Harrison winced.

"How dare you try to leave your Momma alone!" She began to shake him violently and he was getting dizzy. Harrison could not understand why she reacted the way she did.

"But... mother! I can go to a good school for free! Shouldn't you be happy for me?!" Harrison commonly never raised his voice, but she had to understand. He slapped her hands away from his shoulder and stood up quickly. He stared down at her.

"Harrison! You should be here! You... you can me in the house and at Esmeralda!? Why should you go to another school?! The school you go to now is good enough, isn't it!? Tears were streaming down her face, and Harrison could not help but think she looked like the Muggle stereotype for a witch.

"Mother, the school is a boarding school, but I will come home next summer vacation." He knew it would probably make her even angrier, but she had to know. She had stopped crying and was now just sitting at the floor staring hopelessly up at Harrison.

"You will leave me alone until the summer vacation?" she whispered. Harrison brought his hands up to massage his bleeding cheek. He was actually bleeding a lot.

"I will leave tomorrow morning for the station." It seemed like he was also whispering now. Harrison wondered why he felt so incredibly guilty. It was not like he had done anything; if anyone should feel guilty it was his mother. She glared up at Harrison.

"Harrison, you cannot leave. You have to be here with your mother until you become sixteen! You will be able to help Momma at her work, wouldn't it be great?" Harrison felt disgusted that his mother had even asked her own son to go the same way in life as she had done. Cassandra nodded to herself, apparently pleased by her reasoning. Harrison understood that his mother had a far from stable mind, but it did not make it any easier accepting her insanity.

Harrison sighed loudly. "I'll be going to bed, mother." He could never make her understand. She gave a giggle, nodding at him. Crawling over to him, she stood up on her knees and gave him a hug.

"Good night, Baby!" It was as though they and not argued. Harrison wondered how much it would cost to get a doctor for her bipolarity. Though he knew that she probably would not live until he would be able to get enough money for some kind of treatment. His poor, almost insane, mother.

Harrison locked his door as soon as he came to his room. He could not do what his mother wished. He picked up the only bag he had to pack everything he needed for Hogwarts. He had gotten it from one of his mother's clients, a traumatized soldier from the First World War trying to leave behind his past by sleeping with prostitutes and giving away everything he owned. The soldier had been kind to Harrison, actually talking to him unlike his mother´s other clients, but he had committed suicide a year ago. His name had been Arren Wilmer, and he had been the closest thing to a father Harrison had ever had.

* * *

><p>Harrison woke up early on the 1st of September. The train was supposed to leave at 11 o´clock so he had just enough time to get to the station and board the train before it left. He quietly opened the window. Harrison had decided to leave in secret. That way there was no way Cassandra could stop him. His window was nothing more than 2-3 meters above the ground, so he could get down without much difficulty. Before jumping out of the window, he remembered to unlock the door. He did not want his mother to think he had died inside his room.<p>

It was pouring down outside and Harrison was glad he had put his books in a plastic bag. Not owning an umbrella and having a train to catch, he jumped outside into the rain. The walk to the train station would take a little less than an hour, and after five minutes he was already soaking wet.

When Harrison arrived at King's Cross Station, he was freezing cold. The station was considered one of the main train stations in London. According to the letter he had gotten on his birthday, it was where he would board the Hogwarts Express. Harrison had never taken a train before and looked forward to his six hour long trip to Hogwarts. The building was beautiful and Harrison had to stop so he could admire it. He had walked past it before, but never really looked at it.

The platform his train would depart from was 9 ¾, but Harrison could not find it. He could not even see a sign with the number. After 20 minutes and still failing to find the platform, he had no choice but to ask for help.

"Excuse me, sir." He had chosen to ask a guard by the entrance.

"Yes, what can I help you with?" He looked like a strict man, and Harrison could see the man glancing over his clothes. He was aware that he looked like a beggar with his soaked clothes.

"Could you tell me where to find platform 9 ¾?" The guard laughed at him. Harrison's eyebrows twitched, and he glared at the laughing man.

"What?" he snapped.

"There is no such platform. Go play somewhere else, kid." Realization kicked in. Harrison could not believe how foolish he had been. There was no way a Muggle would know where he could find the Hogwarts Express.

"Of course. I´m sorry, sir…" He walked stiffly, if a bit embarrassed, away from the guard. Harrison glanced at his watch and saw he no longer had enough time to relax. He looked, febrile, around the train station, hoping to be lucky and find a wizard or a witch. Harrison began passing between the platforms, feeling more and more nervous as the minutes went by. He sat down at a bench, clutching his head.

"What am I going to do? I am going to miss it… " He whispered to himself. Harrison imagined a scenario where he had to go back to his mother, and it felt as though the world was falling apart.

"Are you looking for the Hogwarts Express?" He was surprised and looked up hurriedly, afraid that he and imagined it. It was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair pulled up in a smooth bun, who had talked to him. She sat down beside him at the bench, placing a large grey suitcase at the floor. It was amazing that she could carry it so easily, considering how heavy it seemed.

"Yeah… Do you know where it is?" He breathed out. She had a strong German accent so it was difficult to understand what she was saying. She hummed and brought out a cigarette from her pocket.

"You see that wall between platform nine and ten? To get to platform 9 ¾, you have to walk directly at the wall. It is a barrier so you will pass straight through it, don't worry… I hope you don't mind…" She lifted a cigarette, indicating the meaning behind her words. He shook his head. His mother always smoked, so he was used to it. She lit her cigarette. Harrison glanced over at the wall and nodded.

"Thank you, ma'am." She snorted loudly and blew out some smoke.

"Oh, please. Don't call me ma'am. My name's Hannah Adlersflügel. Call me Hannah." She gave him an almost non-existent smile. Harrison remembered reading about the Adlersflügel in his book about the most important Pure-blooded lines. The Adlersflügel was a famous and wealthy family from Germany. There had not been much written about them in his book, though. Apparently, they were very private and nobody knew much about the family. He wondered what she would be doing in London and in the Muggle part of the train station no less.

"Sure. Thank you for your help." He had no more time and did what she had told him to do. As he neared the wall, he could not help but think that maybe she had tricked him and that the wall in front of him was solid. Though, it seemed like she had spoken the truth, and Harrison went straight through the wall. It was a dizzying experience, and it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water at him.

Harrison did not pay any attention to the families around him, deciding to board the train as fast as possible. He tried to remember if he had gotten a ticket from Dumbledore with a special compartment he was supposed to sit in. Not remembering if he had gotten a ticket, he decided to enter the first empty compartment he could find. Changing into his secondhand uniform as fast as possible, he sat down. Outside of the window, Harrison saw parents hugging and bidding their children goodbye. He wondered how he could be so unlucky, to get a mother who not only didn't follow him to the station, but also did not want him to go to a good school. Nevertheless, he could not get everything he wanted.

* * *

><p>The train had departed from King´s cross at exactly 11 o´clock. The train trip had been estimated to last six hours, so Harrison would not arrive at Hogwarts before 5 o´clock.<p>

The rain was still falling outside of the train, and it made it difficult to see anything. Harrison had tried to sleep, but it had been no easy task with a train filled with children. Instead, he chose to read a book. Harrison had read all of his books for Hogwarts, even the ones he had bought for himself, and the book he had in his hands was the only one he had yet to finish. It was a massive book regarding the politics in the wizarding community. Harrison glanced over the page. He hoped they had a large library at Hogwarts because he did not think he could survive without a large room filled with books, not after he had gotten a taste of good literature. He wanted to laugh to himself, but decided against it. If it was something Harrison did not wish for, it was to look like some crazy person.

It did not take long for Harrison to finish his book, and after sitting quietly in his seat for at least half an hour he became bored. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was no more than 1:17 p.m. He was incredibly bored. A knock at his compartment door made him glance up.

It was a girl, or maybe he should call her a woman since she seemed to be over seventeen. She opened the sliding door and leaned up against the door frame. She looked incredibly similar to the Black girl, Walbuga, he had met in Diagon Alley. Harrison gritted his teeth, just thinking about her made him irritated.

"Hey. How are you?" She was startlingly polite compared to every other witch Harrison had met so far.

"Fine, thank you. Can I help you with something?" She laughed out loud and walked over to him, flopping herself at the seat in front of him. She leaned back and gazed over him.

"No, not really. I am a prefect, so I am just patrolling the train." She grinned at him. Harrison had read Hogwarts: A History, and knew that a prefect was a student given extra authority and responsibilities by the Head of House or the Headmaster. There were apparently one male and one female prefect in the fifth, sixth and seventh year.

"What is your name? I haven't seen you before… a 1st year?" She leaned forward in her chair.

"Harrison Law, 1st year. And you?" He reached out his hand for her to shake it and was pleased when she took it.

"Dorea Black, 7th year." So she was related to Walburga Black. Though judging by their remarkably different personality, the same parents probably had not brought them up.

"There must be a lot of responsibilities that come with being a prefect." The rain had begun to let up, and Harrison could finally get a good view out of the window. It was a beautiful countryside with extensive fields and big trees.

"Well, to be honest being a prefect has more pros than cons, but I can't sit here talking to a 1st year! I have duties." She stood up from her seat.

"If you need any kind of help just come to the compartment at the end of the train, okay?" Harrison nodded. Waving her hand, she strolled out of the compartment, leaving Harrison to his boredom.

After another hour or two, Harrison knew that he would soon die from boredom. He even began to reread his book about politics, when his compartment door was opened for the second time. Harrison first thought he looked into the face of the irritating blonde man he had seen at Gringotts bank, but realized that it was only a young boy with the same blonde hair and look.

"Hello. Is it all right if I sit down? I had a quarrel with one of my friends and do not wish to go back to their compartment." The boy was incredibly cold and expressionless as he stared down at Harrison, who could do nothing but nod. The blonde boy entered the compartment and took the seat nearest the door. Harrison was curious and wanted nothing more than to ask the boy for his name. Glancing at the blonde, he decided to act on his desires.

"What year are you entering?" The blonde looked up from staring at a big ring on his finger. It looked like a family ring, so maybe he was an heir.

"What?" The young boy snapped at him. Harrison knew he had secondhand clothes and a Muggle bag by his side, but he really hated it when he was judged so fast.

"I asked what year you are entering." He tried to make his voice as cold as possible and glared at the boy. The blond wrinkled his nose and turned back to gaze at his ring, apparently deciding to ignore Harrison.

"You should never underestimate people." It was meant to come out as a warning, but instead it sounded like a threat. Harrison was angry, and he wondered if he was the only one feeling the temperature dropping. The blond boy's eyes became glazed, and he swallowed.

"Could you stop… please?" It came out as a whisper and Harrison had difficulty hearing what he had said.

"What…?" He did not understand what the blond boy meant. Looking at the boy, Harrison felt worried. It could not be normal for a person to begin trembling out of the blue.

"Your…. Your magic… make it disappear. Please, it's hurting me." Finally understanding that it had not been an open window that had created the sudden drop in temperature but his magic, he tried to calm down. When the blonde finally stopped trembling, Harrison breathed out.

"I'm sorry…" He said after a while and glanced at the boy who was staring at him. How embarrassing, losing control of one's magic.

"No, I am sorry." The blonde boy studied Harrison before he rose from his seat and moved across the compartment to sit in front of him. He reached out his hand to Harrison.

"My name is Abraxas Malfoy, first year." He took the offered hand, wondering how he could have earned the boy's respect or at least tolerance so fast. Especially when he had done something very unpleasant to him.

"Harrison Law, first year." The Malfoy family was one of the most wealthy families in the English wizarding community, and if he remembered correctly, the family was also involved in the political world. Harrison's eyes sparkled excitedly. It seemed as a member of a pure bloodline could tolerate his Muggle blood if he had power. Glancing into Abraxas' eyes, he could see that the boy only tolerated him because of his magical strength. They were both fully aware that they were only a recourse for the other.

**To be continued.**

**Please review!**


	5. V

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:**

There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC/Harry

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the reviews I have gotten so far!

* * *

><p><strong>As Long as I Am Breathing, In My Eyes, I Am Just Beginning<strong>

Harrison Law never thought he would be able to escape his mother and her environment at a young age. He had believed that he would live with Cassandra until he graduated or longer into his adult life because getting an apartment of his own was out of the question for someone as poor as him. Though, now that he was a student in another world entirely, he realized that he had already escaped from the nightmare of a home.

Growing up with a far from reliable mother and less than good conditions, he had learned early to be patient. If he waited, then maybe, if he was lucky, it would all improve. He had always known that he would be able to escape from his social standing at some point, he was ready to work for it, but to have the chance already at eleven was not something he had expected.

The most unusual thing about the Wizarding World was that he would be a legal adult at seventeen, a whole year before the usual age in the Muggle world. There were times where he was incredibly thankful that his mother had never been in any education systems. This way there was a low chance of her finding out just how much power she had over him as a parent. If she had known, who knows what she would have done.

Harrison would try to make the best out of his new life. It did not matter that he was low in the hierarchy because he could improve. He would become someone respected in the wizarding community. He would use his entire life if he had to.

Neither Abraxas nor Harrison had said anything else after introducing themselves to each other, so the rest of the train trip to Hogwarts had been quiet. Harrison had gone back to rereading his book, finding it better to read it again than not to do anything at all. The blonde had made himself comfortable in his seat and had continuously swapped between studying Harrison and looking out of the window.

Harrison was exhausted by the time they finally arrived at the station and could not believe that he had to go through the sorting before he could go to bed. He had never known a train trip could be so tiring. The trip up to the castle itself had been the worst experience he had had in a long time. They made the first years walk up to the castle through mud and rain, so when they finally arrived at the castle, they were all soaking wet. It had been a groundskeeper that had walked with them, and he had kept on talking about how students often disappeared on the school grounds, scaring many of the first years.

Harrison wondered exactly where Hogwarts was located. In his book, it was written that it was in Scotland, but the precise location of the school could apparently never be uncovered because it had been spelled to be untraceable. Glancing up at his new school, he was impressed. He had not seen a lot of castles in his life, but he thought that Hogwarts had to be one of the most beautiful in Scotland. The castle seemed to be located in the mountains near a lake and it made an impressive sight.

They were ushered into an entrance hall, and the groundskeeper strictly told them to stay put, threatening that he would hang them by their feet in the dungeon if they misbehaved. He came back minutes later, closely followed by Professor Dumbledore. Harrison's eyes widened in surprise. Unlike the last time he had seen the Professor, he was not wearing his brown and grey Muggle clothes, but a wizard robe with the most clashing colours. It was an entirely horrible combination. It was hard to believe the man was the Deputy Headmaster, but for all Harrison knew, it could be a trend in the wizarding world.

Harrison looked forward to the sorting and was curious as to how they were supposed to sort the students. There had not been anything written about how they would be sorted in Hogwarts: A History, only that there were four different houses.

"Follow me, boys and girls!" Dumbledore turned and walked towards a pair of large wooden doors, opening them into a great hall. The hall had tall walls, and it was lit up by thousands of floating candles. Harrison glanced at the floor and was surprised to see that it was clean because he had been expecting stearin from the candles all over the place. The wonders of magic. At the front of the room, there was a long table where the teachers seemed to sit, judging by their different age from the students. In the centre of the table there was a throne-like chair, where an old man sat. There were also four different tables, probably one for each House, if Harrison remembered correctly.

When they had entered the hall, they walked up to a small platform and Dumbledore asked them to wait. At the platform, there stood a stool with a hat, which was extremely battered and old. Dumbledore walked up to the stool and picked up a scroll lying on the floor. He became quiet and it looked as though he was waiting for something. Whatever Harrison had expected, for the hat to tear along its brim and open it like a mouth had not been it. The hat's opening started to move and it began to sing:

_A thousand years or more ago_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own house, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favourites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

Harrison studied the hat. He did not understand how the hat could have anything to do with their sorting, but before it could confuse him any more, Dumbledore spoke.

"I'll read your names in alphabetical order! When I call your name, come up here and sit down on the stool. The hat will sort you into the House that will be your home until graduation!" Dumbledore looked down at the scroll, cleared his throat and began to read out their names in an intense voice.

"Armstrong, Monroe." A tiny girl with short brown hair walked slowly up to the stool. The Professor placed the hat over her head and the room became quiet. Harrison did not know what to expect. After a few minutes, the hat shouted out to the hall.

"Hufflepuff!" The girl was ushered over to her table and the sorting continued.

"Bergström, Adam." He went to Ravenclaw. It seemed as if the decision of the hat varied from student to student. Some sat there for seconds and others for nearly five minutes. Harrison had begun to feel bored after the fifth student and no longer listened to the sorting, instead studying the floating candles.

"Law, Harrison." Looking down from the candles, he began to move towards the stool. Harrison had never been the one to feel embarrassed over himself, but he had to be honest and say that it was uncomfortable that everyone was staring at him. Sitting down at the stool, the hat was placed over his head. It fell over his eyes and he could no longer see the tables before him.

"There is no question about where you should be placed." Harrison jolted and he could hear some student's snicker. The hat had spoken in his head! He could almost not believe it, but it was a magical world he had entered so maybe it was to be expected.

"Of course. I have to read your thoughts to be able to sort you." He did not like the sound of that. If the hat could read thoughts, then he had no way of protecting his privacy. The worst thing was that the hat could speak, and there was no saying if it would give away sensitive information.

"I cannot give away any information I get from you." Harrison relaxed and waited for the hat to sort him. The hat became quiet, and it seemed like it was grumbling over something to itself, though he could not hear what it said.

"Study the past if you would define the future…" Harrison knew that quote. Confucius, who had been a Chinese thinker and philosopher, had written it. Though he could not understand why the hat, a magical object, would give it to him. It almost seemed like the hat knew something about himself that he did not know, it annoyed Harrison that the hat was so vague.

"Fuck you." He realized that he had said it out loud and not thought it when he heard someone gasp in the hall. The hat laughed inside his head and Harrison became even more annoyed with it.

"Slytherin!" He slowly stood up from the stool, glared at the hat and strolled down to the Slytherin table. He was glad they had put up a name-tag in front of each table or else he would not have known which table to go to. Harrison noticed that he, unlike all the other first year students, did not get applause. As he walked towards the table to his new House, he tried to remember what he had read about the House of Slytherin. If he remembered correctly, the House was traditionally home to students who exhibited traits such as cunningness, resourcefulness and ambition. The House's symbol was a snake and the Slytherin uniform's colour was green and silver. Harrison glanced down at his tie and saw that it had changed colour from black to silver and green. Though he had a problem. Slytherin was a House composed mostly of Pure-blood students because their founder had disliked Muggleborn witches and wizards. So if he understood it correctly, Pure-bloods did not like people like him, that explained why he had not gotten an applause.

Harrison sat down at the end of the table and followed the rest of the sorting. Abraxas was sorted into Slytherin and, unlike Harrison, he got a huge applause, even some whistles.

Abraxas walked up to where Harrison was sitting.

"May I sit down here?" Harrison nodded, not believing his luck. If the other students could see a Malfoy acting this way around a Muggle-born wizard, then they had to give him a chance. He smirked to himself as Abraxas sat down beside him. The sorting ceremony soon finished. In all, the Slytherin House gotten nine new members, Gryffindor eleven, Hufflepuff eight and Ravenclaw twelve.

The hall became quiet after the man sitting in a throne-like chair clapped his hands. He was a frail and feeble-looking man. His head was almost bald and the only hair he had was a few thin wisps of white hair.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I am your Headmaster Armando Dippet." Dippet held his wand to his cheek as he talked and it seemed to work as a speaker so that his voice boomed through the hall.

"Before we start the feast, there are certain details you should know…" Harrison could hear students from other tables groan, apparently it was normal that Dippet had something to say before the feast.

"If a student commits a minor mischief or similar they will lose House points. For those of you who do not know, House points are points awarded to students, for example, to students who do something good in class. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, which is a great achievement! " The elderly Headmaster looked down at the paper in his hand, probably looking over his notes.

Licking his lips he continued. "All teachers, prefects, and the Head Boy and Girl have the authority to deduct House points. Students who have broken a law of the school may be given detentions. The length and punishment of the detention are determined by the teacher providing it." It seemed like Headmaster Dippet had a deep love for discipline and rules. Harrison sighed and glanced over to the other tables seeing some students yawning.

"Also, please refrain from using magic in the corridors… I'll leave it to you, Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore…" The last sentence was addressed to Dumbledore, who stood up from his seat beside Dippet.

"Thank you, Headmaster. Before we start the feast, we should sing our beloved school song!" Many students beamed and some even clapped their hands. Dumbledore brought his wand out and waved it around like he was directing music.

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._

There was no standard rhythm to the song, and it seemed like everyone sang it as they liked. Harrison thought it was the most horrible song he had ever heard; glancing over at some of his housemates he could see that he was not the only one with such an opinion.

After the song finished, the food magically appeared at the table. Harrison had never seen so much food in one place and his mouth began to water. There were all kinds of food served. He could see roast beef, chicken, sausages, bacon, steaks, boiled eggs and many types of food Harrison had never seen before.

He filled his plate and felt so thankful he was a wizard. If he had not been a wizard, he would probably be home with his mother, starving every day.

"What is up with your face? It looks as though you never have seen food in you entire life." It was Abraxas who had spoken to him, but it was difficult to see that he was talking to Harrison because he did not look at him. Harrison did not want to tell anyone about his past, but if he wanted Abraxas to keep on talking to him, then he would have to be nice.

"My mother doesn't earn a lot so we never have a lot of food." A small lie. His mother did have money; the problem was that she only used it on herself. Abraxas hummed in response, chewing at his mashed potatoes.

"Had to be tough." Harrison chuckled, it did not sound like he cared at all.

"No, not really." The less Abraxas knew about his past the better.

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><p>The feast was about to finish just as Harrison felt like he could not eat another bite. He had not talked to anyone other than Abraxas, even though many of them had looked curiously at him. After all, it was not every day they saw a Malfoy talk to a Muggle-born. Abraxas had not said anything more to him after the few sentences at the start of the feast. Harrison stood up when he saw everyone else stand.<p>

"Please follow me, 1st years!" It was Dorea Black waving her hand at them.

"I will be showing you the way to the dungeon, that's where the Slytherin common room is located." She stopped them with her hand and counted over them. Apparently pleased that she got everyone, she began to walk towards the dungeon. They came down into a dark corridor without windows, probably because they were underground. Harrison glanced around and could not see any kind of door that could lead to their common room. He was about to ask Dorea, but she stopped up and placed her hand at the wall.

"The entrance to the common room is located behind this stone wall. To be able to enter, you need a password." She smiled down at them. She was an incredibly warm person. Harrison could not help but think about the tremendous contrast between the cold corridor and her personality. Dorea turned her back to them and spoke in a loud and clear voice.

"Acentetus." The stone wall disappeared, revealing the common room. There were some small windows and a big one in the roof revealing that they were located under the lake. Fishes could be seen swimming past the glass, and the water created a green tinge in the room. There were lots of low-backed, black and dark green, button-tufted, leather coaches. It was beautiful and magnificent, but it had a cold atmosphere. At both sides of the common room there were two doors, one was showing the sign for male and the other for female.

"The password to the common room changes every fortnight and the new one is posted on the notice board. So don't forget it!" It was a male, strict-looking prefect. It seemed like Dorea had left them with him as she was nowhere in sight.

"Normally, you would meet our Head of House, Horace Slughorn, but he has, unfortunately, other things to do. Therefore, we have decided to give you a pamphlet this year, in which we have filled in the rules, etc. Your dormitories are through either of the doors, depending on your gender. Good night." The boy glared at them and stalked away. The students spread and most walked to the dormitory room.

He was the last prefect Harrison would ever go to if he needed help. Harrison stared around the common room. There was almost nobody left, just a few sitting in the coaches talking to each other. Noticing he had been left alone, he slowly began to stroll towards his dormitory, passing a tapestry featuring a handsome man with a large silver snake draped over his shoulder. He came to a stop. He seemed like a person of high standing, with authority. He glanced down at the bottom of the fabric where a name was written.

"Salazar Slytherin." He whispered out loud. Harrison was glad he had been sorted into Slytherin. He believed that there was no other house that suited him better. He had ambition and could be resourceful. Harrison knew what he wanted and he was not afraid of stabbing someone in the back or bowing his head to a stronger opponent if he could get what he desired.

**To be continued.**

**For those of you who wants to know when Tom Riddle will show up, it will probably be around chapter 7-8.**


	6. VI

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter.

**Warning:**

There will be slash (homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction - You have been warned. I apologise if there is anything in the story you find offensive.

**A/N:** I really hope my explanation about certain branches of magic being impossible for Muggle-borns is understandable(It made perfectly sense in my own head…(*-*))

Many thanks to my incredible beta, Kitskune Miyake!

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><p><strong>Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful<strong>

Harrison's first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the opening into a new life. He went to bed early after the welcoming feast and as he lay down in an inexplicably comfortable bed he realized that he really left his mother behind to do what he desired. He dreamed about what he would achieve in the year to come, not realizing that fate had other plans for him and nothing of importance would happen just yet.

Harrison woke up late the morning after the welcoming feast. Classes would start late the first day so he had slept in. The bed was warm, and he did not want to leave the warmth for anything in the world. Harrison blinked and tried to focus on his watch. It was past 10 o'clock so it seemed like he missed breakfast. Realizing that he had no choice but to wake up, he stumbled out of his bed. Gazing over at his shelf he was surprised to see his things and books lying all over the floor. It even seemed like someone had taken the time to burn some of the Muggle garments he had brought along, which he had found in the shower area. Though luckily not every item of Muggle clothing had been burned, so he still had some left.

That was just the beginning of a series of unfortunate events for Harrison Law. It had not taken him long to identify his bullies. They did not try to conceal themselves in fear of being punished; rather they flaunted it to their housemates. Why hide it when they got supported for tormenting the new pest, which had entered their honourable House? His tormentors were all of his dorm mates, except Abraxas Malfoy. Evander Lestrange was the leader of the organized bully group and the one who disdained Harrison the most. The Lestranges were an ancient and wealthy pure-blood family, so Harrison guessed that Evander Lestrange had grown up learning that disliking Muggles and Muggle-borns was something acceptable.

Harrison agreed on his opinion about Muggles and could not care less about what he thought about Muggle-borns as long as he could respect Harrison. Maybe he should care about other Muggle-borns, but that wasn't his problem as long as he was left alone. The bullying group's biggest supporter had quickly become Walburga Black. She had apparently felt so humiliated when he had the nerve to talk to her in the café that she did everything in her power to make his life bitter. Of course, she always left the bit of information that it had been she who started the conversation when she told her friends about her "horrifying" experience.

When he first entered the school he had thought that being acquainted with Malfoy could help him not get bullied for a change. Though looking back he had to laugh at himself. Malfoy only tolerated him because he had brought him to his knees in the train compartment. He never did anything when Harrison was surrounded and about to get his ass kicked. Harrison understood that if he wished to be left alone then he would have to earn their respect or make them tolerate him.

* * *

><p>His subjects at Hogwarts were not something he had expected. Not that he had any idea about what they would be learning when he first learned about the wizarding world. The first year students had to take Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy and Herbology. They even had a flying lesson with actual brooms. Harrison had finally found something the witches in Muggle books had in common with the real witches and wizards. Astronomy was a boring class, and even though he did his best to get the best marks possible he never did extra work for it.<p>

Charms on the other hand was the discovery of the century. Harrison could not believe how fascinating the subject was and spent hours in the library satisfying his curiosity. They were defying science, making objects levitate without any source to lift it up, and he could not get enough of it. The branch of study was mostly about how to enchant an object to behave in a way that was not normal for the object before the charm. Harrison had even come across extremely powerful and difficult charms in one of the books in the library. It was called the Fidelius Charm and could apparently hide a person or a place so that the only way of finding them was to be given the location by a so-called Secret Keeper. The schedule they had as first years was small, giving Harrison much time to study on his own. Defence Against the Dark Arts had also become one of his small obsessions. Although it had not been the defence part that had interested him, but rather the curses and jinxes they learned to protect themselves from. Regrettably, there were few books about curses in the open library section.

Harrison had noticed that being sorted into a House decided what kind of friendships that could be made with the other Houses. Being in Slytherin he was tolerated by the students in Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuffs shied away from him because of his classmates and most Gryffindors detested him and generally kept away from him. It was an unwritten rule in Slytherin to not communicate with the Gryffindors. He had read that the rivalry between the houses was from the founders of their houses who had had a strained relationship. Even so it did not stop Harrison from asking a Gryffindor girl in his charm class named Minerva McGonagall to be his study partner for Transfiguration. He was not surprised when—after a few studying sessions with her—he was met with a violent reaction from his classmates.

After being kidnapped in the corridors and forced into an abandoned classroom, he could not help but think that he could have been a bit more careful. He was cornered and wished nothing more than to be somewhere else. Adrian Carrow walked up to him.

"Do you know what our problem is?" The boy was rather small and chubby, failing completely at being intimidating. Despite that, he acted as if he were the most frightening bully of all time.

"No. Should I know?" Their bullying sessions had become boring lately and it had become far more irritating than it had been at the beginning of the school year. Lestrange was leaning against the wall by the door, watching his servants do the heavy lifting.

Mitchel Blishwick laughed and sat down beside Harrison. Blishwick was a tall boy, with disturbingly white teeth. He took a harsh grip of Harrison's hair. In return Harrison glared back at him. He hated it when people touched his hair; it reminded him too much of his mother when she was angry

"Back off, Blishwick. Why the hell should I care about what you think?" Blishwick glanced into Harrison's eyes.

"Oh, but you should care about what we think. Your Housemates are your family when you're here! And we don't appreciate family walking around with Gryffindorks," he whispered into Harrison ears. He slapped Blishwick's hand away from his hair tugging some straws out in the process.

"I don't care." The imbeciles in front of him were extremely annoying and he had difficulties keeping his calm. Harrison glanced over his three classmates and considered using the new spell he had found in his book with barely legal curses.

"Shut up, mudblood! You should be honoured that we're even talking to you!" Carrow's temper had always been as short as his stature.

"Well, I certainly didn't ask for you to talk to me. If I am so dirty compared to you, why are you even here? Don't you have better thing to do?" Harrison was fully aware that riling them up was far from smart, but could not help it.

"You little shit!" Carrow delivered a sharp kick to his stomach. Harrison grunted; his kicks always were the worst. Just as he was about to kick Harrison another time, Blishwick placed his hand at Carrow`s shoulder stopping him.

"Stop it, Carrow. We're not Muggles." Blishwick licked his lips and pulled out his wand.

"We have much better ways of making him pay. Don't you agree, Law?" He was in trouble; they usually never used curses or jinxes. Harrison knew he had to reach to them somehow. It was either to let them do whatever they wished for or use a curse.

"So… What should we use? The Leek Jinx, or maybe even a curse." Lestrange had finally decided to become involved and strolled over to them.

"The Leek Jinx? Really, Blishwick?" Lestrange snorted and glanced at Harrison. He was a rather good-looking boy with an extremely unpleasant personality.

"Oh, do you have a better curse you believe we should try?" Harrison smirked and nodded.

"Of course, who do you think I am? It isn't for no reason that a Mudblood like me has higher grades than pure-bloods like you!" He leaned back on his left hand while he carefully fished out his wand from his pocket with his right. They were quite foolish when they had not taken his wand from him earlier.

"Get him," Lestrange gritted out. Apparently his grades were a sore topic for him. Blishwick and Carrow smirked at each other and took a step closer to Harrison.

"Locomotor mortis." They fell harshly to the floor, Carrow knocking his head painfully against it. Lestrange had been on his way out of the room but swirled around to face Harrison as he heard the leg-locker incarnation.

"Wha- "

"Petrificus totalus!" Lestrange slumped to the floor and did not move.

"What the hell did you do?!" Blishwick screamed at him, making Harrison wince. He glanced over his head and saw that Carrow had lost consciousness, his head bleeding onto the floor. Cursing himself, Harrison turned to Blishwick.

"Listen, fool. Carrow is unconscious. I need you to bring him to the infirmary." Harrison did not want to end up killing someone in his first year at Hogwarts. "I'll remove your leg-locked curse when I'm outside of the room. Don't follow me, understood?" He turned to leave.

"Oh, and I have proof that you have been dabbling with illegal goods. So if somebody asks, you never saw the one who attacked you. Okay?" Blishwick's eyes widened and he nodded frantically. Giving him the most innocent smile he could muster, he spoke the counter-curse. If he were lucky then they would stop bothering him and leave him alone from now.

Satisfied with the outcome of their 'meeting' Harrison strolled happily towards the common room.

* * *

><p>Harrison's first year passed by in a hurry, and before he knew it Christmas holiday was closing in. He had never liked Christmas, but being able to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday made it bearable. Cassandra never gave him present anyway, so there was nothing he would be missing by not going home. And he was not sure how smart it would be go to his mother's apartment before the school year was over, when by definition he had run away from home. Horace Slughorn had begun to walk among the students in Slytherin to make a list over those who wanted to stay over the vacation.<p>

Harrison had begun to pack up his book after the Potion lesson, when he saw Slughorn approach him.

"Mr. Law!" The man came walking over to him jovially. He was a short man with an enormous moustache and thick, straw-coloured hair. He was rather fat, probably from his enormous love for food.

"Yes, Professor?" Slughorn had only begun to notice Harrison's presence after he had showed profound talent in Charms. Slughorn had an unusual habit of collecting talented students in his Slug Club. The man also had a tendency to rudely ignore people he did not view as important, talented, or famous enough to get his attention. It had ticked Harrison off when the man had openly ignored him the first months at school.

"I would like to know if you have registered for the Muggle-born Registration Commission? I don't particularly care, but Headmaster Dippet has the Heads of the Houses to ask their Muggle-born student if they have registered!" He laughed and slapped a hand over his stomach.

"The Muggle-born Registration Commission? I have never heard of it…" He tried to remember if Dumbledore had said something about it before the term had begun but could not recall it.

"No? Well, then we need for you to fill out the application at once!" He swished his wand, and after an incarnation a paper came rushing through the air. He snatched it and read over it before going it to Harrison.

"Leave it at my desk by the end of the week, then I'll send it to the Ministry as fast as I can." Glancing over the paper he nodded.

"Professor, if you don't mind me asking, why exactly do Muggle-borns need to register?" It puzzled him. He had been registered as a part of the magical community when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter so he could not understand why they needed to acknowledge his unsavory heritage.

"Oh, well there is a very good reason. You see, there are professions in our community who does not accept Muggle-borns! By having our register we'll know who are born from two non-magical parents. Of cou-"

"But Professor, isn't that unfair?" Slughorn coughed, apparently annoyed that he had been interrupted. Harrison could not care less and only wanted an explanation as to why he had fewer profession choices than his pure-blood classmates.

"Mr. Law. As a Muggle-born there are certain branches of magic your body cannot handle. Let me give you an example… Muggle-borns cannot become an Animagus." Harrison's eyes widened.

"Why? We are born with magic just like pure-bloods are!" Slughorn nodded and brought his hand up to massage his chin.

"You are, but the problem is your body is not built up on the same material as a pure-blooded wizard. Though I cannot tell you the details about the study of Pure-blood and Muggle-born genetics. I am far from an expert, after all!" Slughorn laughed to himself.

"You have magic, but your body's material is made up from two non-magical beings and therefore you have their genetic material. It's your magic that makes you able to do almost everything a pure-blood or a half-blood could do. Yet there are some transformations of the physique and magic that your body just cannot handle." Harrison did not like what he heard, but it did make sense. Pondering it, he thought about the squibs wondering how they fit into the picture. Looking up at Slughorn, he had to confirm his suspicion.

"So, Squibs are able to see things that normally are hidden from non-magical beings because they have the genetic material of a pure-blood, just without the magic?" Slughorn beamed at him.

"Yes! Exactly! I'm impressed you could conclude that by yourself." The man was smiling broadly at him. Glancing at his watch, Harrison noticed that he only had few minutes to reach his next lesson.

"I'm convinced that it's awful for you. To never be able to study certain branches of magic and for someone of your talent to be kept in chains! The world is indeed unfair." Harrison was not after a pity party, and it irritated him that other people would feel sorry for something he had no control over.

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor, which branches of magic?" Slughorn sobered up rapidly and glanced over Harrison, as though he was deciding whether to tell him or not.

"As I've already told you, you cannot become an Animagus… and the other restrictions you have are mostly within the darker branches of magic. Some of the pure-bloods practise it-of course, only the legal spells-because their bodies can handle it exceptionally well. And sometimes their wands are compatible with the branch too." He was intrigued and decided not to go to his class just yet.

"So, different kinds of wands are better suited for some branches of magic?"

"Yes, the sustainability of a wand to perform a special branch of magic usually depends on its core. I know for a fact that both dragon heartstring and phoenix feather have a reputation for being suitable with the darker branch. And since they are better suited for that branch of magic, Muggleborns never gets those cores!" He laughed out loud and swished his wand while muttering "Tempus".

"What did yo-"

"Oh, look at the time! It seems like you'll be late for your next lesson. Off you go!" He ushered Harrison out of his classroom and closed the door, leaving him alone in the corridor.

Harrison stood there shocked and wondered if he should have said that he had a phoenix feather as wand core. He was a Muggle-born, a Mudblood, someone with limited possibilities in the wizarding world. Shaking his head he decided that Slughorn had to be wrong. After all there were no other possibility. He had gotten used to his position in the magical society and did not want to trick himself into believing it could be better.

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><p>Christmas holiday had just started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had only been Harrison and a few other girls in Slytherin who had decided to stay at school over the holiday, which had been perfectly fine for him. Most of the Professors stayed for the vacation and they had begun to decorate the castle until Christmas Eve.<p>

Harrison was surprised when he saw that they followed the Muggle traditions for Christmas at Hogwarts. Since a majority of the wizarding community was pagan, it made sense that all the pure- and half-bloods were going home, not wanting to be a part of the Muggle-inspired party at their school. That left the school with the Muggleborns and a few half-bloods.

Harrison entered the Great Hall, looking at the beautiful decorations. It was decorated with twelve towering Christmas trees, holly, mistletoe, and other Christmas-oriented accessories. They had warm, dry snow falling from the enchanted ceiling; it was an impressive sight as always. He was on his way to the library, but he had to see the Christmas decorations before doing so. Harrison had made a plan to read through some Charms books before the classes would starts again. That way he did not need to be more social than needed and could refrain to think about his mother, who probably would have a breakdown if she had known he could have come home for Christmas. Entering the library, he went to work at once, for finding all of the material he wanted would be quite difficult in the large library. Looking at his watch he saw that he still had some hours to study. The watch was miraculously still ticking even though Muggle devices normally never worked in the wizarding world and he had yet to understand why it had not stopped working yet.

Harrison blinked blearily and groaned. Falling asleep had not been his plan when he had walked into the library. It was dark inside the library, and it seemed like everybody had left, leaving him alone in the room. Massaging his sore chin, which had been pressing up against some books for hours, he glanced at his watch. It was far past curfew. He tiredly packed his things and began to slowly walk back to the common room.

"Mr. Law?" Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dumbledore. He was holding a lamp over his head lightening up the dark corridor. Harrison could not believe his luck. It was not his first time being out of after curfew, but he had never met any prefect or professor before.

"Yes, Professor?" He did not want to talk to the old man. Dumbledore made him uncomfortable, especially considering the man's prejudice against Slytherins. Harrison always thought it felt as though the man could see right through him when their eyes locked.

"It is past curfew, Mr. Law." Dumbledore stared at him, and Harrison was careful to not look him in the eyes. The man was creepy; he could not understand why so many students liked him.

"I fell asleep in the library, sir." He yawned and fleetingly wondered if it would be all right if he slept in the corridor. He hoisted his heavy bag, filled to the brim with books, hoping the professor would let him go with few deducted points.

"Mr. Law, the bed is the best place to sleep, not the library. Has your mother never taught you that?" It was probably meant to ease the tension between them, but it probably was not the smartest thing to say to the very tired boy in front of him.

He gritted his teeth and could feel his self-control slipping.

"Don't talk about my mother." He breathed out. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, and he looked startled.

"My mother's a prostitute. She never taught me anything useful." He was annoyed, irritated, and only wanted to take it out on the man standing in front of him. Dumbledore smiled sadly at him, almost pityingly.

"I am sure she tried her best to raise you, Mr. Law." He had walked up to Harrison and was about to lay his hand on his shoulder as a supportive gesture. Harrison stumbled back, trying to avoid the hand and lost his bag at the floor in the progress. Not bothering to pick his bag up he glared at Dumbledore.

"My mother is a prostitute with huge drinking and drug problem. She doesn't do anything for me! I don't even know who my father is!" Harrison usually never lost his cool and could not believe that he was yelling at the Deputy Headmaster. Dumbledore looked alarmed and Harrison could understand why he was surprised, even worried. It was unusual for Slytherins to express their feelings outwards, but he was tired and his mother was a sore topic.

His eyes widened as he realized that he had just given away a huge weakness of his. Swallowing, he picked up his bag and straightened his back.

"Excuse me, Professor." It was forced, tight. He could not believe how foolish he had been. He turned around and walked away in a brisk pace ignoring Dumbledore, who was calling out his name.

Harrison's eyes was moist, and it felt as though he was about to break down again. Racing through the moonlit corridors, he felt like a small child. It felt as though he was running away from Arren's apartment all over again after finding him hanging from a rope in his living room. He felt weak and powerless. Harrison could not believe how pathetic he was.

**To be continued**

**Please review!**


	7. VII

**Disclaimer:** I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:** There will be slash (homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OC/Harry

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews I have gotten so far!

Many thanks for my beta, Kitskune Miyake.

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><p><strong>When it is dark enough, you can see the stars<strong>

After his horrible experience with Dumbledore, Harrison had taken a few days to recuperate. It felt as though he had lost some big battle and was paying the price for letting his guard down. Luckily the price was not too big, and he felt like himself again after a day or two.

There were still some days until the Christmas holiday would end, so Harrison felt like he could continue with his so-called study plan. He never intended to find Introduction to the Dark Arts. It was a short chapter in a book about different kinds of magic, and he could not look away. The chapter had not explained much about the dark branch of magic, but it was enough to get Harrison hooked. He swallowed, glancing around the library to be sure nobody saw him reading it. Clearly it had a bad reputation, judging by the way the author explained it as the most horrible magic to ever be used. Slughorn's warning about Muggleborns not being able to handle the darker branch of magic was a small, easily ignored voice in the back of his head.

"Peter Carmody…" The author's name. Glancing up, he walked over to the librarian.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" She looked up from whatever she was doing and looked critically over him, the way she looked at everyone else.

"Yes?" She lifted her glasses and slapped the book at her desk shut. Harrison licked his lips and gave her the book he was holding in his hands. The book was mostly about the lighter branch of magic, so he did not think she would notice his interest in the smallest section, the Dark Arts.

"I would like to know who this author is." She inspected the book a snorted.

"What is it, ma'am?" Ignoring Harrison, she opened the book and read the introduction of it. After a while she looked back at him.

"The author of this book is a half-blood who never attended Hogwarts or any school for that matter. I don't understand why we have it in our library…" She furrowed her eyebrows and laid the book at the counter, not giving it back to Harrison.

"I am confiscating this book. I am sorry, but you cannot read the rest of it. I cannot accept such a dreadful book in my library! The author has no study to base his facts on about the magic." Giving him a short nod, she briskly walked out the door.

The library went silent. She had taken one of his only sources on the branch. Harrison did not care that it was biased; he only wanted to know more about it. Thinking back to what Slughorn said, he thought that maybe it was for the best that he could not get to know it better. After all, he did not want to destroy his body by practising it. Sighing, he sank heavily into a chair and massaged his temples. He really wanted to try it out. He could not believe that his Muggle heritage would destroy all his possibilities of practising any of the darker branches. It was so unfair. Though, he could not do anything about it. Maybe it was possible to do some kind of ritual which made his body compatible with the same branches of magic as the pure-bloods.

"No." He would not let it stop him. It did not matter. He would try the branch out. Maybe it would destroy his body, but if it did then he would stop. Smirking to himself he leaned back in the chair. Nobody could tell him what to do if they did not have more power than him. He would only bow to somebody who deserved his respect.

* * *

><p>He could not believe his terrible luck. After he lost his only source about the interesting branch of magic, he had thought that he would never be able to satisfy his curiosity. It was torturous to Harrison. The holiday had ended, and the students had returned to the school. Once again were the halls filled with people, and the library was no longer empty. All of his dorm mates had returned and with them, their things and books. Harrison knew that they all were from wealthy pure-blood families, and—if he had understood it right—they all accepted the Dark Arts. He had planned it days before they returned, and on the day of the welcoming feast, he stayed in his dormitory.<p>

Harrison glanced around himself and swallowed. He knew that Blishwick had a huge amount of illegal goods, but he did not know whether they were books about the Dark Arts or not. Walking silently over to his bed he opened Blishwick's suitcase. He was lucky it was open; usually Blishwick always closed it with a spell. Though it was worrying that it was open when it usually was not. Maybe Blishwick had known he would do something and placed a curse inside it? Though Blishwick did not really have the brain for it, so surely it was nothing to worry about.

"Sloppy, sloppy, Blishwick." Grinning, he looked through Blishwick's expensive clothes and things. At the bottom of the suitcase there were a couple of old books without any title. Swallowing excitedly, he took them out. It was quite foolish of Blishwick to let his suitcase with dark artefacts be open in a school full of children, especially since it was illegal. He fished a paper out of his pocket and glanced at the copying spell he had written down.

"Geminio." It was not the best spell for copying, as it would only last for a couple of hours, but would have to do for the time being. Carefully laying Blishwick's things back into his suitcase, he took his new copied books and almost skipped back to his bed. He had not checked what kind of books he had before copying them as he did not want to use unnecessary time in front of Blishwick's suitcase, and they had not title, so he hoped everything was not for naught. There were three thick books and one thin one. He took the thinnest and opened it slowly, dreading that when he opened it would be about something lame, like a scrapbook of kittens. Though he doubted a Pure-blood child was interested in kittens, like the old lady who often came to his mother's apartment selling books about kittens.

"Secrets of the Darkest Art." Harrison finally had luck on his side. Smiling happily to himself he took up the other two books.

"The Dark Arts - Durmstrang 1st Year. The Dark Arts: A Legal Compaion." Harrison had to find a better copy spell and soon. He could not afford to lose these books in a couple of hours. Shuffling them under his bed he brought up his spell book. Two hours later and he finally some books that would hold for years. Harrison breathed out. He closed the curtains to his bed and opened his wonderful book about the Dark Arts. There was no way he could hurt his body by only reading about it. It was quite short so it only took about an hour to read it. Nevertheless it was an incredible book, with only the facts and information that were needed, nothing more.

Apparently even though the Dark Arts had a bad reputation, the overall magic was not by definition an 'evil' magic. It could be used for both good and bad. Harrison could not understand why so many of the darker spells were illegal when they were far from dangerous. The book did not mention it, but he supposed it had something to do with the history of the branch. After all most of the famous practitioners of the Dark Arts had accomplices great but quite horrible. Some would even call them evil. Dark magic was not the only magic that could be used to kill. As the book had said, a Severing Charm could easily kill somebody if used correctly. The Dark Arts differ from other forms of magic in the intent of the wizard using it.

Most magic was neutral and could be used for both good and bad. The Ministry of Magic believed that there was some magic more evil in its intention through and through. The darker branch of magic was also stronger and much more potent than any other branch, and that was why a large part of it had been deemed illegal. Harrison really wanted to try the branch out, and it irritated him more than anything that he could not touch it because he would damage his body. He was not willing to harm his body for some new information-well, not too much anyway-and he could accomplish nothing if he damaged it.

"Fuck you, whoever chose to give me a Muggles genetic material," he whispered to himself. It was unfair. It now made perfect sense why Durmstrang did not allow Muggle-borns into the institution. They taught the Dark Arts, so it would only make it difficult if they allowed people who could not practise it into their school. What had he done to deserve this?

* * *

><p>The days at Hogwarts slowly began to move towards summer vacation. Harrison had hidden his Dark Arts books and tried to tell himself that it was for the best. There was no way he could become somebody respected and admired in the wizarding world if he destroyed his body and became a vegetable. Though he did continue to read his Dark Arts books.<p>

All of the first years had to go through a set of exams to get into the second year, and and they started only a week ago. Harrison of course did not have any problem with the examinations and went through them with ease.

There were many of his Housemates who did not enjoy their Muggle-born pest getting better grades than them and tried everything in their power to make his life miserable without physically attacking him. Harrison had almost been late for his Transfiguration exam because he woke up one morning and could not find his uniform. Of course he solved it by showing up in his Muggle clothes, something they did not appreciate, and it only made them more annoyed with him. Even though he was a Muggle-born, he was a part of Slytherin, and they did not like him going around in clothes belonging to a species they despised. They did not touch his school uniform for the rest of the year, and Harrison even considered using his Muggle clothes just to get on their nerves.

* * *

><p>Harrison finished his first year at Hogwarts and had to go home for the summer holiday. He departed from the station and was making his way towards his mother's apartment. It was dark outside, and he was the only one in baldly lit streets. He wondered how she was. He had not sent any letters to her and did not know how she had handled him running away. Maybe he was a bit insensitive to his mother, but he had not wished to scare her too much by sending an owl to her. He strolled towards his home, hoping that she did not have a client over and that the door was unlocked. It would have been so much easier if she had given him a key for the house, but she always told him that he would lose it, and she could not afford another key.<p>

Arriving at his mother's apartment, he stood in front of the door. It was a weird feeling. One year ago he had run away from home to go to a magical school. Now he was standing in front of his own home, knocking on the door instead of opening it. He knocked three times at the dirty door and waited. Five minutes later, no answer had come, and he started to worry. Glancing to the window leading into the living room, he saw that there was absolutely no light. She did turn it off sometimes when she did not have any clients, but she always answered when she was free.

"Maybe she is at Esmeralda's…" he whispered to himself as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember other places she could be. It was a worrisome thought, for it was long past closing time for the café. Harrison was slowly, surprisingly starting to panic. Walking at a brisk pace towards the landlord's house he knocked had at the door hard enough to bruise his hand. Harrison did not stop after a few knocks, but kept on knocking until he could hear somebody walking at the other side. The door was quite thin, so he could hear whatever was going on inside the house without problems. Slowly opening the door, a small, old man looked into Harrison's eyes.

"What is it, young man?" He leaned tiredly at the door.

"Do you know where the woman renting number 3 is? Sir?" Harrison tried to keep panic out of his voice, but he could not find his mother. Do not misunderstand his worries: he was not particularly concerned about her; without her, Harrison had no place to live. He did not have enough money to rent himself a place, so no mother for Harrison only equaled no place to live, nothing more. Maybe also no food, but she never did have enough of that, so it did not count.

"Number 3?" The old man pursed his lips as he pondered Harrison's question.

"Yes, number 3. Sir?" Still pursing his lips, the man massaged his white beard.

"Oh, yes. Now I remember! The woman who lived there moved away last September." Harrison became quiet.

"What?"

"She moved away last September, boy." Licking his lips, Harrison tried to think about what to do. He could search for her, but it would take time. Time he did not have now. He was standing alone outside an unknown person's house in the dark. He was only twelve years old, and however much he wanted to be independent of others, he was considered a child in the eyes of others. A homeless child was an easy prey in the streets.

"Sir, do you know a place I can stay for the night?" Harrison did not want to sleep on the streets. He would not go that low.

"Don't you have a place to stay?"

"No. The woman who was renting number 3… she… she is my mother…" It was hard on his pride to admit that she was his mother, especially when the person he was telling it to probably knew what she did. The man raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"I see… It's starting to get late, and I don't want to leave a young boy alone on the streets at night. You can sleep over here tonight, but only 'til tomorrow. I don't have money to keep you here longer." The old man opened the door a bit wider. He seemed a bit hesitant to let Harrison inside, but it was understandable. Who would want to let a child they did not know inside their house? Harrison would certainly never let a stranger inside his house, not that he had one anymore. Not even that, his mother lived of letting strange men inside their apartment.

"Are you sure? For all you know, I could be a thief, sir." The old man laughed loudly and shook his head.

"You, a thief? You are way too polite to be a thief, young man. And I don't have anything worth stealing." Maybe he was too old to care?

"Thank You, sir. You won't regret it." He gave the man a nod and walked into the house. It was an old house, but cosy. The man led him to a small room at the end of the house. It was extremely dusty, and the man coughed when he opened the door into the room.

"Are you all right, sir?" The man nodded and brushed some dust off the small bed.

"Yes. You may use this tonight. It was my son's." He smiled tiredly at Harrison. He thanked the man as he walked out of the room. Slowly laying down into the bed, Harrison hoped that he could find his mother the next morning. He thought about what he would have to do if he did not find her, but he quickly tried to think about something else. At worst he would have to live on the streets.

* * *

><p>Harrison woke up the next morning with a hurting back. The bed had been horrible to sleep in compared to the beds at Hogwarts, and Harrison felt like an old man when he stood up from it. He quickly put his clothes on so that he could leave. He did not have time to enjoy a slow morning. He walked into the corridor, looking for the owner of the house. It was impolite to leave without thanking the old man. The old man came slowly and shakily through an open side door in the corridor.<p>

"Boy, do you want anything to eat before you go?" He was holding a plate in his hands and was chewing at what seemed like bread with greyish-green cheese.

"Thank you, but no. I need to find my mother, sir." He smiled at the man with some force. Smiling to other people than himself had always been difficult. Harrison wondered if he maybe was a bit narcissistic.

"Thank you for letting me stay for the night, sir." He gave the man a small bow, and after a few more pleasantries he left the house. It was nice outside. Harrison even had to take off his jacket before going on his search for his mother. His plan was to go to Esmeralda first; his mother was always there when she did not have anything else to do.

Strolling at a relaxed pace toward Esmeralda, he took in the surroundings. Not much had changed, though something was going on outside of England. Harrison remembered some articles he had seen in the newspaper about some militaristic movements in Germany, though it was nothing much and did not seem like something to worry about. When he finally arrived, he was deathly tired and wanted nothing more than a glass of milk from Mrs. Esmeralda. It was something he always expected when he came to the café, so what if it was a bit childish? He carefully walked inside and looked around. It was quite empty. Harrison's mother was not there. He was staring to panic again. He did not want to live at the streets or anything similar. Had she really left her son? Though, when he thought about it it had been he who left her in the first place, so maybe he was not one to talk.

"It's come back to kick me in the ass. Lucky me." He was about to turn when he heard a voice.

"Darling!" Turning around he saw Mrs. Esmeralda walk toward him. She looked worried, and it made Harrison suspicious that something had happened to his mother.

"Yes, Mrs. Esmeralda?" He was playing stupid, as though he did not know why she was worried.

"Where have you been?" She was right in front of him now and leaned in to give him a comforting hug. She did not hug him for long, as she knew he disliked physical contact.

"I have been at my boarding school since September. Did mother not tell you that?" She glanced down at him and he could see the concern dancing in her eyes.

"No. She never mentioned it…" She looked away from him, almost guiltily. She was blaming herself for something which was not in her power to stop. Had his mother finally done something to get herself killed? Moving in for the kill, he took a step back from her and looked her directly into the eyes.

"Where is my mother, Mrs. Esmeralda?" She pursed her lips.

"Harrison, why don't we sit down?" Esmeralda had the same habit as his mother, using his name only when there was something serious. She led him from the café towards her office. She opened the door, and Harrison walked inside. He sat down in a big, comfortable chair and looked back at her as she seated herself into her office chair.

"Harrison…" She stopped and licked her lips, clearly nervous about what she was going to tell him. He tried not to shift too much in his chair, but he had no patience for this. They sat like that for some minutes, just staring at each other.

"Harrison, I don't know where your mother is…" At least she did not tell him that she was dead.

"Why?" She stood up from her chair and walked over to where he was sitting. Esmeralda bowed down and laid a gentle hand at his shoulder. It was very uncomfortable. Harrison did not appreciate her touching him, even if it was only the shoulder.

"After you disappeared, she began to drink even more than she had before. Weeks after you had… left, she moved out of her apartment and into a brothel close by. Bit by bit she stopped coming to my café until she one day did not appear. I have not seen her since December… last year." She took a deep breath in.

"I'm so sorry, Harrison, but I don't think you will find her again." It was the same as telling him that she had died. "And even if you do, please don't move in with her again. She is too far gone, and there's no way she would be able to take care of you. I know she was never the best mother, but the woman I saw after you left was… no one a child should live with. Cassandra will probably never be the same kind and happy person I got to know as a young woman again…" Esmeralda whispered the last part to herself. It was no secret that his mother and Esmeralda were old friends. Harrison swallowed. He had always known that she would disappear on him someday. No surprise there.

"I always knew she would disappear someday." He was only confirming what she had said. He looked away from her and chuckled. Esmeralda looked weirdly at him. Maybe she thought he had finally begun to lose his marbles, just like his mother.

"She never tried to be mother for me, so my only problem with her _"being away"_ is that I do not have a place to live anymore." Leaning back into his chair he ran his hand through his hair.

"I know she'll never say it to you, so I'll say it for her." Esmeralda was looking into his eyes with so much emotion that it surprised and even scared Harrison.

"I'm so sorry." He knew that she meant it in a good way, and it felt good to get an apology, but he did not want it from Esmeralda. Harrison wanted his mother's remorse and apology. He knew that it was something he would never get. "It is not something you need to worry about." He waved his hand, and she nodded. She understood that it was nothing he wanted to talk about.

"Harrison, I know you don't have a place to live in anymore." She stood up from where she was crouching in front of him and went to her desk. She got a paper from a shelf and gave it to him.

"You can't live on the streets. This is the name of an orphanage close to the station. I think you should go there." Her face showed so much shame. So this was what she had been guilty about. Harrison did not know what to say. He was parentless with nowhere to go. It was expected that he go there. Swallowing, he carefully glanced at Esmeralda. He did not want her to see that he was shaken up by the thought of going to an orphanage.

"Yes, of course. What is it called? I shall go at once." He stood up from his chair and picked his bag up from the floor. He did not want to talk about feelings anymore. Harrison was fully aware that he locked away all the emotions he did not like. His feelings would run lose if he talked too much about it. "Wool's Orphanage." She opened the door to her office and let him outside.

"You can come here anytime you want to, darling." She smiled warmly at him. He nodded and walked past her.

"I will see you later, Mrs. Esmeralda." He did not bother to give her a smile or anything similar. Harrison could see her worried look from the corner of his eye when he walked out of the café, as though he were going into battle to die.

* * *

><p>Harrison stood in front of Wool's Orphanage and wondered if he really was doing this. The house was a square building surrounded by high railings. It looked extremely run-down, though it looked far better than his mother's apartment. Swallowing down his nervousness, he walked past the open railings and up to the door. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked on the door, hearing them echo through the building. It sounded foreboding. Not soon after the door was opened by a skinny woman with a sharp face.<p>

"Yes, what do you want?" She looked like a strict person. Harrison pondered about how he should say it. It was—after all—not every day that a kid delivered himself to an orphanage, was it? Not that Harrison knew of, of course. "

You see, my mother has been missing since December last year. I have been at a boarding school until yesterday, and I no longer have a place to live. My mother's friend said that you would be able to take me in, ma'am." A small lie. Esmeralda had only given him the name of the place; she had never said that they would take him in. She nodded and looked thoughtfully at him.

"What is your name?"

"Harrison Law, ma'am." She nodded.

"My name is Mrs. Cole. I understand your circumstances, so come inside. We need you to fill out some papers though. Can you write?" Harrison wrinkled his eyebrows. The thought of not being able to write at his age was horrible.

"Yes, I can write. Ma'am." Nodding she mumbled. "Good." The inside of the orphanage was very clean despite seeming so old. She led him to an office at the top of some stairs and gave him a set of papers as soon as they entered it.

"Please fill out these sheets." She gave him a pencil and walked out of the office, leaving Harrison alone. The papers were the usual: name, birthday, etc. He finished long before Mrs. Cole came back, and not wishing to be impolite he stood still at the same spot she had left him. He did not want to get on her bad side when she was one of the people working at the place he was probably going to live in for the next five or six years.

"Mr. Law!" Harrison jumped in surprise when Mrs. Cole called him. She was standing in the doorway and it seems like she was waiting for him. How long had she been standing there?

"Yes?" He asked. "We have found a room for you." He followed her out into the corridor and tried to keep up with her brisk pace. They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. She glanced at Harrison, and he thought he saw an ounce of concern for him. She did not open the door; instead she left him there. He wondered if she acted this way to every child at the orphanage. There was nothing he could do about it, so he opened the door. It was a small room with two thin beds. A shelf stood at the side of the door and one desk under the window. It seemed like he would be sharing the room with somebody—seeing as there were a few personal objects at a shelf-but judging by how empty it was at the moment, his roommate was somewhere else.

He flopped onto the bed that looked more unused and studied the room. Whoever was living here must have had some obsession cleanliness because it was unnaturally clean for a child's living quarters. Harrison sighed. He was an orphan, at least by definition. He brought his hands up to cover his face and snickered to himself. Harrison always thought he was too good to be live at an orphanage, and fate hated him and delivered the opposite.

"What are you doing in my room?" Harrison could not see who had said it and could only hear his voice. It was a boy, he was sure of that, with a very charismatic and smooth voice, nothing like Harrison had ever heard. Glancing up, he saw a boy stand in the doorway. The young boy was taller than Harrison by at least 7-10 centimetres. He had always been short though, so there was no surprise there, especially if the boy was older than him. He was dark-haired and pale.

Harrison swallowed as his green eyes locked with dark ones. The panic came immediately as his magic ripped from his body. It was overflowing, and he could do nothing to stop it. Fate did not just hate him. It despised him.

**To be continued **

**Next: Tom Riddle**


	8. VIII

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:** My native language is not English. There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC/Harry

**A/N: **Finally Tom is here! Hope you like my description of him and their meeting.

Huge thanks to my beta, Kitskune Miyake.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't hate you… I just don't like that you exist<strong>

Harrison had quickly learned after his meeting with Abraxas at the train that it was crucial to maintain control over one's magic. If he could control and understand it to some level, he would succeed in using it even better. That was why he practised and experimented with it far into the night during the school year so that after his first year at Hogwarts, Harrison felt that he had an unusually good grasp over his magic. He firmly believed that he could not lose control over it. Because he had become arrogant, he was unprepared when his magic ran out of control like a wild animal. It was the last thing he had been expecting in this situation. He was at an orphanage in the Muggle part of London; there was no way—or so he thought—he would meet someone or something that would make him trip over. How unimaginably stupid.

Harrison tried to take a deep breath to see if he could actually breathe the suffocating air in the small room. The door was open into the corridor, but it felt as though he was inside a small box with minute amounts of oxygen. Swallowing harshly he could feel the sweat slide down the side of his face. Glancing up at the boy standing in front of him, he could again feel his magic unmercifully rip out of his body. Maybe it was some kind of allergic reaction to his magic?

The boy was leaning up against the doorway, looking no better than Harrison. It made his own discomfort much better; at least he was not the only one vulnerable. He wondered if the strong reaction between their magic would stop at some point. After a few minutes with them breathing harshly, listening to the children laughing outside in the play yard, he knew that it would not stop anytime soon. It was actually quite weird, listening to the happy and calm voices of the other people in the building while they were suffocating in their own room. Harrison did not like it. If the boy had not walked into the room, or if they had not been unlucky enough to share the room, then this would never had happened. This was entirely the black-haired boy's fault. The panic and alarm he had been feeling shifted into irritation. He was extremely weak, and he could not tell who could take advantage of him. It had to stop, had to be fixed, this horrible feeling of being out of control, of being somebody not worth respecting.

Glaring heatedly at the young boy he did the only thing he could think. Shifting sluggishly in the bed he was laying in, he reached out for his military bag beside him. Harrison took a strong grip on the bag. He laid there for a moment, pondering if it really was the best course of action. He could not stand in his condition, so he really had no other choice. Though it was rather physical and Muggle-like, definitely not something his housemates would consent to. Harrison smirked to himself. They would never know. The only thing that mattered in Harrison's mind was that the black-haired ass had to pay. He had to pay for knocking Harrison's control off the shelf, for making his feel like someone not worth respecting. Strengthening his grip, he forced his arm to move, forcing the magic he could control to strengthen his movements. The bag went flying towards the boy and hit him with unexpected force. The young boy stumbled backwards in a fall before crashing into the wall in the corridor outside of the room. Judging by the crack that appeared when he hit the wall, it had to have hurt a lot. Harrison hoped he got a concussion, but anything more serious would be a problem, so he refrained to think about further injuries. The horrible feeling of drowning disappeared the moment the black-haired boy hit the wall.

Harrison gulped in air as though he could never get enough of it. He leaned forward so his forehead was lying on the smooth mattress, bringing his hand up to clean off the thick layer of sweat that had been gathering on his face. He felt ill, and it would be no surprise if his breakfast decided to show itself any minute.

"Ugh…" His tongue was heavy, and no words would come out of his mouth. It had been a long time since he had felt this ill. The last time was probably after he had eaten one of his mother's most lethal dinners. He had been up all night after eating it, hanging over the toilet. Though it was an interesting notion that his magic—or maybe it was the boy's—could make him feel sick. The boy was a wizard, no question about that. Though whether he knew it or not Harrison did not know. Harrison's harsh breathing quietly slowed down, but it was still faster than normal. He did not move and instead chose to lay still with his forehead pressed down into the mattress, partly because he did not wish for somebody to see his painful and vulnerable face. He pressed his head deeper into the bed and gagged. His head was pounding.

He disliked the boy. He had not talked to him and did not even know his name, but he would not give him a chance before judging him. Why should he give the boy a chance? It was all his fault, whatever he knew it or not was not an issue. He was someone who could bring Harrison to his knees. An enemy.

* * *

><p>For as long as he could remember, Tom Riddle knew that he was special, or at least something entirely different from the residents of Wool's Orphanage. He had abilities. Abilities not seen in the spineless and simple-minded occupants of the orphanage or in any other mortal he had seen before. He had power. Tom believed that his abilities verified that he was at on an entirely other level above human beings. It did not matter that they were older or had more muscles than him. He was much more worth than them. Tom often as a child explained his superiority by telling himself that if there was such a thing as the ark of Noah, then only he would be good enough to walk on it. Because of this belief, Tom had never been afraid or cared about breaking the rules. Not that he looked at it as "breaking the rules." Tom believed that since he did not create the laws and rules most individuals expected him to follow, then it was not possible for him to break them. After all, they were not his laws and rules. As long as nobody could blame him for doing something that counted as "wrong," then he could do whatever he wanted to.<p>

The people that knew him looked at him as someone weak and powerless, which always gave him the perfect opportunity to manipulate them. Tom found it handy that he could use and manipulate people to do his shitty work. When he succeeded in manipulating someone, he always looked at them as a work of art. He had made them do something, and it filled him with a sort of pride. All in all, his rule was that other rules made by people counted for everyone but him and his pawns.

When Tom had been visited by Professor Dumbledore, it had only confirmed how incredibly special he was. He finally could actually count himself one hundred percent out of the crowd of people he was disgusted by, now known by the term Muggles. Tom felt absolutely no shame in placing the race in such a low place at the social ladder. Why should he? He was a god in comparison.

The infuriating part about Dumbledore's visit had been finding out that it had been his long dead mother who had been the magical individual, not his father. Tom could not understand how a magical person, so far above the non-magical, could die just like them. It disgusted him to no end. Tom was looking forward to the first day of September. He could go to a place designed to learn about magic, learn about his amazing ability. The possibilities of what he could do with his power seemed endless. He had an exceptionally good control over his power at the moment, and thinking about what he could do when he knew more was thrilling. He would have to try his magic out on his earlier victims again after Hogwarts and see if their reaction would be the same the second time. Maybe he should try Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson again. Strolling down the corridor towards his room, he could not help but find it exciting. The rush of having somebody under his power never got old.

His pale face was expressionless as he walked down the corridor, and if somebody were to look at him, they would have said he looked bored. Arriving at his room, he noticed that the door was open. Maybe it was Mrs. Cole cleaning his room. How annoying. Had he not told her that he would do it himself? His eyebrow ticked in an irritating gesture, and he speculated on the best way to terrorise her into not doing it again. He looked into his room and was surprised when it was not Mrs. Cole he saw. Instead it was a thin boy, maybe at his age, with messy coal-black hair. The boy was lying on the unused bed in his room. It seemed like Mrs. Cole had finally mustered up enough courage to send someone to share the room with him. Tom had thought she understood how he felt about that after what had happened with his last roommate.

"What are you doing in my room?" It was always best to be direct and maybe a bit charming until he could decide whether he could use the boy or not. At first he thought the boy had not heard him and pondered if maybe Mrs. Cole had been smart enough not to place a person who could hear his words. Not that he could not manipulate them if they did not hear him, but it was always so much easier when they could.

The messy haired boy shifted and glanced up at Tom. Their eyes met, and Tom looked into unnaturally green eyes. Before he could think, the room exploded. He slumped against the doorway and breathed harshly. It made no sense. He could not wrap his mind around why his magic was going out of control. The boy on the bed was in no better condition. It certainly was an uncomfortable experience, but it was exciting. As long as he did not let the uncomfortable feelings take too much control, he could enjoy watching the other boy squirm in discomfort. The frame of the doorway was digging uncomfortably into his shoulder, but he gave it no attention.

The boy was also magical—not at Tom's level of course, but still magical. Something like this had not happened when he met Dumbledore, so it could not come from encountering this boy's magic for the first time. An allergic reaction maybe? Before he could speculate any further he heard the boy move around from where he was laying at the mattress. Not bothering to pay the boy any attention at the moment, he pursed his lips. There had to be a way to make it disappear, this reaction. It was beginning to become boring, and Tom no longer found it enjoyable to see the coal-black haired kid squirm. It was not pleasurable if he could not do anything himself.

Out of the blue something smashed hard into Tom, and he stumbled backwards. Whatever had hit him flew until he crashed into the wall behind him. Pain shot through the back of his head, it seemed as though he had hit it the wall. It was disorientating, and at first he could not grasp what had happened. He had been attacked, that was clear. His head was pounding and he knew that he had hit it pretty hard, judging by the wet feeling. He was bleeding. He, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was bleeding because of some lesser being. Someone was going to pay. Opening his eyes which apparently and been closed he saw a military bag laying over him. It was quite heavy. It was a surprise such a small boy could throw it with so much power. The rim of the bag was open and he could see the contents.

A glance at the title of a book which almost fell out confirmed his suspicious about the boy. He smirked despite the pain. He could use this boy. He carefully stood up with some struggle and brushed of whatever dust had gathered on his clothes. He picked up the bag with some difficulty, and strolled inside the room. He closed the door with a smash and placed the heavy bag in front of it. The messy haired boy looked on from mattress, shocked at the turn of events. Tom felt dizzy and ill, almost like he was going to throw up, but he kept it in and tried to keep an expressionless face. He sat down heavily on the edge of his own bed and tried to gather some strength. The other individual in the room was half-lying on his bed and laid his unfocused gaze on Tom. It seemed as though he was slowly coming into control, so Tom knew he had to act fast, manipulate him while he was vulnerable.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?" It was always good to be polite at first, and he was wanted to place a name on the messy haired boy. He would never get all the information if he started out hostile. The messy haired boy glared suspiciously at him and seemed as though he was studying Tom like he was some kind of experiment.

"Nice to meet you." He did not get any name, even though he had asked for it. The boy's voice left way for continued conversation. It annoyed him. It was not his fault that the reaction for their magic had happened, so why did the boy blame him? The room became quiet. Again the only sound was the children playing outside and inside the orphanage. Tom understood slowly as he studied the boy that he had lost his chance. He was most probably considered some kind of enemy already. If he could not gain anything from acting like a nice boy, then he would not waste his energy.

Tom stood up from the bed; his interest heightened when he saw the boy's body shift as though he was ready to attack or be attacked. However, Tom no longer had much interest in the boy himself. He had something he wanted, and if he could not be kind and nice to get it, then he would just take it with power. Tom strolled slowly towards the door and crouched in front of the heavy bag. He opened the already halfway open bag and glanced inside.

"Excuse me? That's my bag." Smirking to himself, he continued to look through the bag. Finally he got a reaction from the boy.

* * *

><p>Harrison was irritated, more so than earlier. The black-haired boy was weird. He had stopped acting like a nice person as soon as he realized Harrison did not like him, as if he had been nice and polite only to get something from him. And now he was looking through Harrison's bag. Who even did that? There was absolutely no respect towards Harrison in doing it, and it pissed him off to be so disrespected by a boy who was probably younger than him. He even ignored Harrison when he had told the mystery black-haired boy that it was his bag and he had nothing to do with it. The boy was riling him up, much more than any person he had ever met. He could see the black-haired moron taking his Hogwarts books out of his bag. Harrison stood up from the bed and walked up to the boy.<p>

"Didn't you hear me?" Harrison tried with all his power to be cool and calm, but it was difficult.

"I'm not deaf, unlike someone else." He looked over his shoulder, giving Harrison a disturbingly charming smile. "I'll be keeping these." He walked past Harrison, ignoring him yet again. Harrison gritted his teeth and imagined something horrible happening to the boy, just to relieve his frustration even if only in his imagination.

"What are you keeping?" He forced a smile at the black-haired boy and folded his arms in front of him. Maybe it would help if he appeared authoritative?

With amused eyes he looked at Harrison and answered the question in an almost signing voice. "The books." The boy had taken almost all of his first-year books and some of his own—luckily not his Dark Arts books hidden in a magical compartment he had transfigured into his bag.

"They're mine. I need them for my boarding school." His voice was cold and his words stiff. The boy smirked at him and let go of the books he was holding, letting them fall down at the floor. Some heavier books landed on the smaller crushing the cover and crumbling the paper.

"They're all yours" The boy did not move, but instead stood just in front of the fallen books. If Harrison was going to pick them up, then he would have to bow down in front of the taller boy. It was probably just what the jerk wanted him to do, to bow to him like some slave. Harrison refused to stoop that low for someone who disrespected him. He gritted his teeth. The black-haired boy leaned his head backwards a bit, looking down on Harrison.

"Well then, I'll take them if you don't want them." The boy picked the books up and threw them into the bed, forceful enough to crumple them more.

"What's your problem?!" Harrison had no other words for the situation. It was quite incredible that they only had met and were already battling like rivals. Feeling like you know someone you just met was never a good thing; quite frankly it was dangerous. Feeling like you knew someone always led to lowering personal defences, and Harrison would not let himself do that.

"I wonder what your problem is. I've done nothing to gain your mistrust, and you won't even give me your name." Harrison almost believed that the boy was sincere, but the cold, almost emotionless tone told him otherwise. The boy leaned forward and stepped towards Harrison.

It was almost too much just to look at the extremely self-confident boy. How could he succeed in a confident but charming look when Harrison sometimes could not muster such a look? This hurt his pride way too much. How did the boy turn it around so it all became his fault even though it had been the boy who had taken his books without permission? Harrison racked his brain for a way to turn the tables, but in the end his pride would be hurt. He had no choice but to admit defeat. Harrison would get back at the jerk eventually; he would not bow his head forever.

"Law. Harrison Law." Harrison forced himself not to look away from the boy. He may have lost this fight, but he would not look ashamed over it. The other boy smirked at Harrison, incredible satisfied.

"I see no point in being unnecessarily rude to people. I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle. It's a pleasure to actually communicate with you, Harrison." Tom smiled widely at Harrison. He had gone directly to first names, which meant he probably held little—if any—respect for Harrison. Tom was either a liar or a hypocrite. Not being rude to people, huh? Who had started it?

"Though I'll still be borrowing your books for the holiday. I'm sure you've already read them." Still so irritatingly charming. If Harrison said anything other than yes, he would come off as the rude one. And how could he know that Harrison had already read them? He gave a small nod to Tom, since he only was borrowing them. Though he had to be careful and not let the books outside of the room. There was no telling if the boy was saying the truth. Harrison went over to the door to get his bag, not wanting to leave it unsupervised with a thief. Tom chose to ignore him again and began to place Harrison's books in his own shelf. Harrison did not comment.

"How old are you? You have to be younger than me with your size." Tom was not even looking at him. Harrison breathed out quietly. The next few years were doomed to end in catastrophe if they had to share a room. Glancing down at himself he could not help but agree with Tom, he was not exactly tall or muscled. Nevertheless he was not unusually small for his age and upbringing, if he had to place a word on his physique he would call it sophisticated.

"Older than you."

"Oh, what makes you so sure of that?"

"You have yet to enter Hogwarts." Tom's eyes lit up with what only could be called excitement, though his face betrayed no emotion. Well, somebody was looking forwards to Hogwarts. Tom finished placing the books in his shelf and was now sitting in the chair by the desk. Harrison did not want to sit down at his bed beside the irritated boy, so he chose to keep standing by the bedside furthest from Tom.

"True." Tom brushed some dust of his clothes. It seemed like Harrison had been right about his roommate's obsession with cleanliness. "Though I have to ask, what year did you just finish?" It was incredible. Incredible that Tom could ask a question and sound like he did not care about the answer, which Harrison knew was not true at all.

"What's it to you?" He was not going to make it easy for him just because he had lost the first time. Tom quietly studied Harrison. A nasty smirk spread across Tom's face, and Harrison unconsciously took a step back.

"Oh?" Tom stood up from his chair and walked up to Harrison. The tension once again appeared and polluted the air. Swallowing harshly, Harrison tried to appear more confident than he really felt. He stood uncomfortably close to Harrison and looked him directly in the eyes. Tom's eyes had a dark mahogany colour, and it annoyed Harrison extremely that he had to tilt his head backwards to look Tom into the eyes.

"You're quite small."

"Just a bit under average. Doesn't count as small!" he snapped. How dare he call him small! He did not have his height by choice.

"Really?" Tom enjoyed irritating Harrison way too much, judging by the look in his eyes.

"At least I only have my height and not an overly compulsive cleaning and order obsession" Harrison barely knew Tom, so he hoped he had been right about Tom's obsession with order and cleanliness. Though it was quite clear when he looked at Tom's room and the way he had used so long to place the books in accurately the same order as his other books. It was not the best comeback, but at least he had said something.

"What? At least mine has its uses." Harrison had not succeeded in getting him to rile up or to deny it.

"I am sure it does. It seemed like I do not have to clean anything as long as I live here." Harrison wondered if he should just be extremely messy to irritate the boy.

Tom raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, "I'm starting to doubt that you're really older than me, Harrison." Harrison's name came out singsong-voice, which did not suit Tom at all.

"I'm beginning to doubt whether you are actually trying to be polite. Didn't you say that there's no point in being rude?."

"You think I'm rude?"

"Yes, I do."

"And that's my problem?" Harrison could feel his irritation rising again. He really disliked Tom so far.

"I don't like you." Harrison had not planned to say it out loud, but he did not regret the words. Rolling his shoulders, he looked up at Tom with a satisfied smirk. Tom's own grin had disappeared, and he glared at Harrison with cold eyes. Seriously, his mood swings were starting to get annoying. Could Tom not decide on one mood, even if it only was an act?

"I'm not blind, fool."

"I don't like you, but I will do my best to tolerate you and your privacy while we share this room." He was still grinning up at Tom. Now he was the one who was acting like a grown up. Maybe it was childish, but he really wanted to regain the pride he had lost earlier.

"You certainly use big words. Don't you, Harrison?" Tom said in an almost bored voice. Harrison gritted his teeth and considered yelling at him to not address him like they were friends. They were not getting anywhere with their talking. It only made Harrison's irritation and annoyance at Tom stronger.

"Fuck you." Harrison snarled. It was incredible, he was not even tired and he still lost his cool. He had to give the boy some credit for irritating him so much. Harrison whipped around and walked quickly towards the door. He kicked his bag, not caring if he crushed the contents, and ripped the door open. He was not going to be in the same room as that asshole any longer. He wanted to be anywhere else. Why did his mother run away? Why did she leave him alone? He did not want to recognise it, but it hurt to be abandoned.

* * *

><p><em>The wind rustled through Harrison's hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm temperature. The smell of the sea reached his nose, and he opened his eyes. His bare feet were covered in smooth, warm sand. The beach where he found himself at was long and white, the waves slowly washing up on the sand, some washing over his feet. It was one of the most idyllic places he had ever seen, almost unreal. Glancing over the beach, he noticed that it did not seem to end at any point. It just continued like a desert on his right, and at his left the sea did the same. There was only pristine sand and water under the blue sky. The strangest thing was that despite the strong wind, the sand of the desert-like beach did not move.(1) The sand was as placid as could be and did not blow with the gusts. It could not possibly be real. Harrison swallowed and glanced down at his feet. The water that lapped at his feet was comfortable and relaxing.<em>

_How had he gotten here? Where had he been before he had appeared at this place? Harrison could not remember, and even trying made his sight fuzzy._

_It was eerily quiet. Only his breath broke the silence. Harrison started thinking that if he had to be here any longer alone, he would go mad. Suddenly, something in the air changed, becoming—if possible—quieter. Glancing up to the horizon, he could make out something moving. It was not possible to see anything but a figure slowly walking towards him. As he started seeing the figure more clearly, he was surprised to see a handsome man, slowly but confidently strolling towards Harrison. He was very tall, about 6'2 feet, with very pale skin and long jet black hair slicked back. When he came closer, Harrison noticed his unusual eyes, crimson like blood._

_Unconsciously stepping backwards as the stranger stepped forward, he glanced behind him for a possible escape route._

_The stranger walked even closer to him, towering above him and looking down at him with almost possessive eyes. Harrison's own eyes widened, not understanding what he had done to make the man look at him in that way._

_"Harry," the stranger said in a smooth voice. Had he not heard that voice before? Harrison opened his mouth to tell the man that that was not his name, but nothing came out. Not a sound. He tried again, but still nothing. His hands grabbed at his throat as though he would solve the problem by touching it._

_The stranger chuckled above him and put a finger in front of Harrison's mouth. "Shh, you can't speak here." Glaring up at the man, he slapped the hand away from his mouth. The stranger began to laugh in a loud, melodious sound, booming in the quiet dessert. It not the kind of laugh Harrison normally heard. The laugh—if you could call it that—was way too dark._

_"You haven't changed." He quieted down and once again glanced down at Harrison. A booming sound came across the sea, like a drum, and the man looked in the direction of which the sound had come from. The air shifted, and Harrison could see a serious look glide over the stranger's face._

_Leaning down slowly the stranger placed his forehead against Harrison's. Harrison swallowed. The man was too close._

_"Don't worry. I will know you…" The stranger said it in a smooth and quiet voice. Harrison's own green eyes clashed with crimson in confusion. The man would know him? When? In the future?_

_The world which had been so quiet began to rumble loudly. From the corner of his eye, Harrison could see the dessert fall apart like puzzle pieces. It fell apart and disappeared into a void beneath. Harrison's breath quickened, and he tried removing his forehead from the stranger, but his body would not move. Looking anxiously into the man's eyes once again he tried to communicate his panic and fear. The stranger continued to look into Harrison's eyes knowingly. Harrison felt the ground beneath him crumble and his foot slipping into the abyss. He felt the rush from falling. The thought that this was the end crossed his mind. He would die. Just before he slipped entirely into the darkness, he saw the older man standing above him, on what seemed to be some invisible ground, looking down at him._

Harrison shot awake. His breath was ragged, and the sweat was dripping from his chin. He furrowed his brows and leaned his head against his knees. Harrison never had dreams. He generally disliked dreams and found them very uncomfortable since he had no control over what happened in them.

Glancing over to his left, he saw Tom sleeping in the other bed. Slowly, not to wake the other boy up, he slipped out of his horrible bed. He padded to the window and glanced outside. The sky was almost cloudless, and the half moon was bright in the sky. It lit up their room with a comfortable, white glow that calmed Harrison down. Who was the stranger in his dream? He was certain that he had never met a man with crimson eyes, though he did have some of Tom's traits. No, it was not possible. He barely knew Tom.

Glaring heatedly at the sleeping boy, he considered throwing one of the books that Tom had taken at the boy in question. It was astounding how much the boy could irritate him when they barely knew each other. Turning away from the window, he slipped back into his now-cold bed. Closing his eyes, he hoped for no other dreams.

**To be continued!**

(1) The desert/beach is similar to the salt dessert(Salar de Uyuni) in Bolivia, but it's sand and never ends(ever).


	9. IX

**Disclaimer: **I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning: **There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC/Harry.

**A/N:** Many thanks to my beta, Kitskune Miyake!

* * *

><p><strong>Who are you to judge the life I live?<strong>

Mrs. Cole sat heavily down at a chair, before glancing tiredly over the now sparklingly clean kitchen. She sometimes wondered why everything she did failed and why everyone else always succeeded, or at least they did in her eyes. In her eyes, her entire life was a huge failure. Her opinion about life had a long and complicated story which Cole believed began with her mother.

She had always believed that her downward spiral in life began the moment her mother became pregnant. Her mother, Elanora, was supposed to have a bright future ahead, especially for a young woman of the 19th century. Unlike so many other women in the area she lived, Elanora had been lucky. How, you may ask? Well, she had gotten a position as a teacher at a local school. It was not much, but she would earn just enough to live from. It was such an incredible thing, for a young woman to get a job men usually got.

Then, the most unfortunate, but not unexpected, thing happened: Elanora got a boyfriend. On a leap of faith, she gave herself to him, believing that only happiness could come from their love. She had been so deeply in love with him that she could not imagine a future without him. She believed that they would be married someday, and therefore she gave up her position as a teacher at the local school. It had been the most idiotic thing to do—and it would have disastrous effects on her life.

As the months passed by it soon became apparent that Elanora was pregnant. After all, they had spent many nights together when they first began their relationship. It was the most incredible thing, not only since Elanora could get a child with the man she loved, but also because they would have to get married as soon as possible. Especially since the father's parents were Christian, not unlike everyone else in the village, and would not tolerate a child outside of marriage.

Everything went downhill when Elanora found out that he had gotten another woman pregnant. She felt betrayed and angry. The feeling only increased when it became know that not only had it been another woman, but she was Elanora's friend. When she was first told that her friend also was pregnant—assumedly the child of another man—Elanora dreamed about how their children would grow up together. The new knowledge shattered her daydreams and hopes of a happy life. When the father's parents found out that he had gotten two women pregnant, both outside of marriage no less, they ordered him to pick one or he would be disowned.

It was no surprise when he chose Elanora's friend. She was such a beautiful woman, unlike Elanora, and she even had an inheritance to look forward to. Such a lucky woman—blessed, some would say.

Cole's mother was devastated. She no longer had her position as a teacher and therefore no way to support herself and a child.

It was all solved when Elanora found a man in desperate need of a wife. He was a widower with five children, in need of someone to take care of the house and the children. Using her horrible situation to his advantage, he convinced her to agree to marriage even though she barely knew him. Her happiness in finding a home for her and her child soon crumbled, when her new husband refused to take in another child. He did not want another man's child and had no place for it; they would have to give it away if Elanora wanted to stay together with him. She chose to give Cole away. After all, she did not want any other hardships in life.

As it was, Elanora's new husband worked at a fishing boat and therefore knew many people. He found a new family for Cole pretty fast. He did not ask any other question but if they wanted the child, so he did not know how they would treat her and did not care. When Elanora gave birth, the child's new family was already waiting outside of the birth room. Cole had no chance of seeing her mother more than a few seconds, before she was taken away. Despite the circumstance, it brought one of the few fortunate things into her life: a family with enough money to give her a good upbringing.

Even though she had a good family and never saw Elanora again, she never could escape from her mother's mistakes. Elanora's scandal followed her, and most people were happy to keep such interesting gossip alive. Cole grew up listening about how her own mother had chosen money and a better life over her, that she was nothing more than an abomination born outside of marriage.

Cole sighed and brought her warm cup of coffee up to her mouth. Black, no milk or sugar. Just like she loved it. It was quiet inside the kitchen, as it always was this late night. Most of the younger children were already asleep, and the older ones were awake but did not make much noise.

Thinking back at her youth, Cole thought that it was incredible that she had not become bitter and angry from being looked down upon and bullied when she was young. As a young woman she wanted to achieve something. Become a fashion designer or something. Because of this desire, Cole left for London: the city of possibilities, at least for her. Cole was 20 years old in 1901, and it was been easy for a woman of her age to her a job.

Somehow she had managed to get a job at an orphanage, Wool's to be precise. Cole was aware that there were children who had a horrible past and were shipped off to an orphanage. As she began to work at the orphanage, she developed a wish to help the poor children. She wanted them to feel appreciated for a change.

Cole coughed as she choked on her coffee. She brought a handkerchief up to dry of her lips automatically, not really looking at anything in front of her. If someone had walked into the kitchen at that moment, they would see that Cole's mind was in a place far away, far into her own past.

Cole had been so happy when she had gotten the position at the orphanage. However, her love for children and her wish to help them changed as time went by. As Cole grew older and children walked in and out of the orphanage, she became bitter. Bitter that she could not find herself a husband. Bitter that she never got anything in return. She did do much for them, so why did they never show her any appreciation for what she had done?

Slowly Cole began to despise her position in life and at work. She chose to blame it all on her birth mother, who she had never met.

Some would say she was overreacting and could use her negative energy on something better, but Cole herself could see no path out of her misery but to become further embittered.

As she became bitterer, she began bringing some of her bad habits into her workplace. Cole had grown up with the knowledge that if a child did something wrong, punishment was the only way it would be able to learn from its mistakes. When she was younger she had tried to never bring punishment into the orphanage, but as a bitter woman, she thought it was the only way to raise them. Cole's punishments were never horrible or scarring in any way, too much at least. She constructed the punishments on how bad their crime had been, ranging from sitting in the corner to hitting them.

Outside of her bitterness, she used a lot of energy to pity herself. She pitied herself because she could not get a husband. Cole believed that no woman should have intercourse with a man outside of marriage, a belief from her birth mother's mistake. Because of this, Cole promised to never have any physical contact with a man before she married. As time went by, Cole saw that everyone in her monthly book club found a man and got married. When Cole turned 40 and was still an unmarried virgin, she gave up her search for a man, which really had not been a search at all. She decided that if she could not find one, she would have to buy one, which led to her the prospect of arranged marriage.

On Cole's 42nd year of living she married a man twenty years her senior. She had been so lucky, some would say—she finally got a man with money to take care of her. However, Cole could not say that losing her virginity to a 62-year-old man—already twice married—was very fortunate.

Cole blinked several times as she brought herself out of her pitiful state. She glanced at her now-cold coffee and sighed. She thought about every child currently living in the orphanage. Most were only small thieves waiting to grow up and fall into criminal careers. Cole shivered as she thought about the worst of them all, the wolf in sheepskin, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

When Merope—whom Cole thought had been a ugly woman from a circus—stumbled into the orphanage with her big belly in the cold winter of 1926, Cole never thought it would bring more unfortunate events into her life. How wrong she had been.

She had never caught Tom. There was never any proof that he had actually anything, but Cole knew it was him.

Billy Stubbs had refused to back down after an argument with Tom. The day after, Billy's rabbit was found hanged from the rafters. There was no proof that it was Tom, but Cole knew that it was him the moment after looking into his eyes. Another strange event which had scared even Cole herself was when Tom and two other orphans disappeared into a cave during the trip to the sea. When they finally came out of the cave, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson refused to answer any questions and acted as though they would be attacked by a monster any time.

Cole knew it was Tom, or at least felt that he had some connection to the horrible things happening around the orphanage. She did everything to give him indirect punishments, the worst being the placement of another boy into Tom's room. She had no other room for the poor boy into and had no choice but to go against her better judgment and place him together with Tom.

Cole believed that it was because she had placed the boy in Tom's room, with full knowledge that Tom disliked sharing, that she found herself at the bottom of the stairs not long after she had done it. She had taken her usual check around the orphanage in the middle of the night to be sure that every child was inside their room. She was about to walk past the stairs when she felt something push her. At least it felt like a push. There was no way she could have stumbled from her position. As she laid at the bottom of the stairs she had glanced upwards to see who had pushed her. To her surprise the spot where she had been was empty.

After laying there for some minutes she had heard some people running through the corridor and was extremely relieved to see that help were coming. Cole's relief had crashed to the floor and was replaced by fear when she was told that it was Tom, the sweet boy, who had gotten help. As they helped her to her bedroom she once again glanced at the top of the stairs, and found Tom quietly standing there smirking down at her. Cole could not say anything, because she had no proof, absolutely nothing. It was not as though they would believe her if she told them about her suspicions, because Tom was the sweetest boy at the entire orphanage in the eyes of the staff. She never did anything to provoke Tom further after that, in fear of once again to "slip" and tumble down the stairs.

Some days after she had tumbled down the stair, she had heard that Tom's roommate had disappeared. He had luckily been found some hours later in one of the few unused room in the orphanage, sitting in the corner of the room, scratching his name into the wall with bloody nails. He was moved to a special house for disturbed children after he attacked and bit off the ear to a visitor.

Cole blamed Tom.

She never placed another boy in the same room, until a warm summer in 1938. The orphanage was full and she did not have any room for a child at the moment. Though when the charming and polite boy named Harrison Law came, she just could not throw him into the streets and agreed to let him live there. When she left him in her office, she did not leave to find him a room, but paced back and forth through the corridor, unsure if she really was placing the polite boy together with the devil.

That night Cole dreamed about finding the mangled body of Harrison the next morning. Followed by her fear, Cole arrived at the orphanage the next morning hours before she usually came over. Glancing worriedly into the two boys' room, she was surprised to see both sleeping deeply. No blood, no scared, crazy boy scratching his name into the wall, just two boys quietly sleeping.

Many would maybe believe that this sight calmed Cole, but far from it. It only made her more worried, because the only way for someone to survive an encounter with the devil was to be the same... if not much worse.

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><p>Harrison did not know what to think of the orphanage. On one hand, it was good to have somewhere to live, though he went from a low place in the social ladder to an even lower one. The structure of the orphanage was good though. Cole, the matron, believed that the oldest children should do the most work and the younger ones should just be out of the way when they were not wanted. Therefore, every child under 14 years old was locked outside in the garden as the older ones washed and cleaned the old building once a month, so he was told. Maybe it would be smart to have younger children to help out with the cleaning, but Cole did not believe that any child under 14 could do anything similar to a good cleaning job, hence the lockout, regardless of the weather.<p>

Harrison sat quietly at top of the stairs leading to the backdoor into the orphanage. Most of the other children were playing in the garden, and Harrison had already turned down several proposals for playing. He was quite popular because he was a new child. He got attention from people he did not want it from, lucky him.

It was quite warm, just like the day before when Harrison had arrived at the orphanage. A weak wind rustled the tops of the trees, and white clouds drifted through the blue sky. Harrison glanced over the children playing in the garden, some not older than 5 years old. He knew it could be a lot worse; he could have been given to an orphanage at a much younger age. It did not stop the bitter feelings from swelling up inside him. He had been abandoned. He had done nothing wrong, and she left without even telling him.

Harrison glanced to his side as he saw Tom walk across the garden towards the bushes and trees that formed a forest area. The garden was actually quite big, especially for London. The front of the building gave no indication to the huge garden hiding behind it. The forest area was so big that Harrison could not see if there was anyone hiding there. Tom walked into the bushes disappearing from his eyes. Harrison's eyes lit up in curiosity—he really wanted to know what Tom was doing behind the trees. Maybe he did something Harrison could use against him. Blackmail material? Why else was he hiding? Harrison stood up and considered if this really was the best course of action.

He glanced once again over to the trees, but Tom had disappeared, walking through the bushes and entering a clearing. He felt stupid. He was supposed to not show himself to Tom and just hide so he could observe. Instead he ha walked straight into the clearing where Tom was. The clearing was quite small and in the middle of it was there a big stone. On top of the stone sat Tom - Harrison noticed irritatingly that Tom was sitting on top of it like some king. Gritting his teeth, he regretted that he and followed Tom out of curiosity. He was a Slytherin, he was supposed to be cunning and smart.

Harrison was about to turn, he did not want to talk with Tom.

"Harry." Harrison stopped and glanced irritatingly back at Tom. He wished that Tom would fall off the stone, maybe get some bruises too, that would be nice. As he looked at Tom he noticed something around his shoulders. Green rope?

"My name is Harrison, not Harry." He hated nicknames. His mother had always called him "Baby" or something similar, so he did not like any kind of name that was not his own.

"Why? Don't you think it's cute? I think the name 'Harry' suits you much better than Harrison."

"I do not like it. Stop giving me nicknames." He took some steps into the clearing, as to not appear scared. Show no weakness for the enemy. As he came closer to Tom, he noticed that it was not a green rope around his neck but a small snake. He stopped and looked nervously at it—was it poisonous? Normally, a snake would not be a problem, but he could not use his magic outside of school, so he really did not want to have anything to do with poisonous animals. Hopefully it was just a garden snake.

"Have you met my friend? Isn't she adorable? She can be quite vicious, so be careful around her."

"If she is so vicious, then why do you have her around your shoulders? Do you have some kind of kink of dangerous animals? You sure are fucked up." It was incredible how much he disliked Tom, after only a week in the same orphanage. They barely spoke to each other, and when they did it was always quarrels, if he could call it that.

Tom laughed out loud. "You're so stupid."

"What did you call me? If someone is stupid here, it's the boy with a vicious snake around his shoulders!" Harrison took some steps towards Tom, and Tom glanced cautiously at Harrison. Of course he was cautions; Harrison hit him in the face more than a day ago, and the bruises were still visible. Harrison was ashamed that he had done such a thing, but it was Tom's fault for being so irritating. Harrison had never been an aggressive child, but when it came to Tom, he had absolutely no control. He knew he had to fix it. If the other Slytherins saw him like this, he would fall even lower in the hierarchy. He had decided, after hitting Tom in the face, that he would not to such things again, acting like a Muggle. It was disgusting. If he was going to hurt someone, then he ought to use magic.

Tom smirked at Harrison and brought the snake to his hands. He began to hiss, like a snake, and Harrison watched as Tom seemed to talk to the snake. Was Tom crazy? Had Harrison missed something and not seen that Tom was raving mad?

Tom looked once again at Harrison and smirked.

"I think you should apologise for hitting me yesterday. Don't you think?"

"Why should I? You deserved it."

"Don't you feel ashamed for hitting your roommate? You're such a horrible person, Harrison." The snake around Tom's shoulders began to slither down the stone. Harrison took a step back and swallowed. Could Tom control the snake? There was no way!

"Apologise. Bow down like the dog you are." Tom was sitting relaxed on the stone, reminding Harrison just how much he disliked the boy. The snake began to slither towards Harrison, and he understood that Tom was threatening him. He glanced around and saw a somewhat big stone—he could use that. He crouched down and picked up the stone before standing up and lifting the stone threateningly.

"If you do not stop, I will kill it. Crush it with this stone! A fitting death for something of yours, don't you think?" Harrison hoped he would stop the snake. Not that he knew how Tom would stop it, but it made sense that if he could make it attack Harrison, then he also could do the opposite. It was a bit embarrassing that he became so worried over a small snake, but he really did not like snakes, and the fact that Tom somehow could control it made everything even worse.

Tom looked irritated and hissed something. The snake turned around and went back to Tom. Now Harrison was sure that the other boy somehow could communicate with the snake.

"A bit primitive to attack someone with a stone." Tom got of the stone and slowly walked towards Harrison. He stopped some meters in front of Harrison. The wind rustled through the clearing, and some clouds quietly made their way over the blue sky. Both of them were looking into each other's eyes.

"Threatening someone with a snake is no better."

"I've never threatened you with anything. The snake was only on its way into the woods. Couldn't handle a small garden snake slithering past you? You're such a kid." Tom glanced arrogantly at Harrison. Breathing out to relax, Harrison began to find it difficult to hold his promise not to hurt Tom in Muggle ways. Maybe one more hit to his face would wipe of that irritating smirk. "You on the other hand are threatening me with a stone." Tom pointed to the stone which was still in his hand, half raised in the air. Harrison glanced at it and slowly lowered his hand—why did it always feel like he was losing when he was talking to Tom? He decide that in the year to come, he would dive into his schoolwork; he would not continue losing to Tom. Tom would pay just for existing.

"What would Mrs. Cole say if she saw that you were playing with a snake? I'm sure she will remove it, after all it is not good to have a snake in a garden where children are playing." Tom glared at Harrison. It seemed like he had some kind of connection to the snake; it would probably be a pain for Tom to lose something he could use against people. Maybe he should kill it with the stone, just to irritate Tom?

"You have no proof."

"No, I do not have any proof that YOU have it, but there is a snake in the garden." Harrison smirked, but on the inside, he felt kind of nervous. Tom was a confusing person, and Harrison could never be sure how he would react to taunts. He looked into Tom's eyes and swallowed. Tom looked really irritated, which was not good at all, especially since Harrison was alone in a clearing with him. If he did something, then he had no one close by to save or help him. With these thoughts in his head, he began to slowly back out of the clearing.

"Where are you going, Harry? We are having such fun; you have no reason to leave." Harrison knew he was in trouble.

"I… I am thirsty. I am getting something to drink." It was a stupid excuse, he knew. He glanced behind himself before looking back at Tom. Tom looked as though he was enjoying the situation. Enjoying that Harrison was nervous. Why did he have to be so nervous around a person that irritated him so much? Why couldn't he be like Tom in a situation like this? He had to somehow make Tom pay for disrespecting him so much.

Tom walked up to Harrison and strongly gripped his shoulder. "Yes, I'm sure you are. After all it's quite warm today. Why don't we walk back together?" Harrison could only nod, before Tom guided him towards the building.

"I want to thank you for lending your books to me. Now I can use the money on something else." Tom's hand on his shoulder was extremely uncomfortable, especially since he was gripping so hard. And Harrison had not loaned Tom his books!

"I never agreed to you borrowing my books!" The hand on his shoulder gripped harder, and some nails was digging into his skin. Harrison winced, but they did not stop walking.

"No? I'm sure you loaned them to me. You never said no." Tom smirked.

"I… I need something to drink." He shook Tom's hand of his shoulder and all but ran away from him. He had lost, again. How he disliked the boy.

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><p>Abraxas Malfoy was slowly making his way through the corridors, lit only by a few lamps and beautifully decorated with antique carpets and furniture. The Malfoy family had always liked expensive things, and they always had to have to best of everything. He glanced down at his robe as he walked. It looked as though no dust or dirt had found its way to his beautiful robe yet; he looked absolutely dashing, of that he was sure. Good looks always followed his family. He had to look the best for the meeting; his father would expect no less. He came to a halt in front of a huge wooden door. He knocked carefully on it three times and waited. He had manners and would not enter without a sign from his father, who he expected was inside.<p>

"Enter." He opened the door and walked inside with the most confident stride he could manage. The room he entered was a big square formed by huge windows opposite of the door. The walls were painted in a green-black colour, and a beautiful jeweled chandelier hung from the roof. The only furniture in the room was the two couches and chairs, which were placed perfectly in the middle to form a square. A small table stood inside the square formed by the furniture. It seemed like tea and coffee was already served, judging from the cups at the table. His mother and father were both inside.

"Good evening, Mother and Father." He gave a small bow to them both. He met his mother's eyes and gave a small smile to her, which she returned.

His father glanced at him. "Abraxas." Nodding, he sat beside his mother in the couch. His father sat at the only chair in the room - after all he was soon to be the head of the house, after his grandfather died of course.

"When will our guest arrive, father?"

"Soon." It was his mother who answered, nothing usual. Abraxas once again glanced down at his clothes before straightening it. He glanced out of the window. The sun was about to set, and a red glow coloured the horizon. Quite beautiful, really.

A knock was heard, and the door was opened by a servant. They never used house elves in positions where they had to be visible. Greeting a guest was always done by wizard servants. A young woman entered the room. It was a beautiful woman with long blond hair pulled up in a smooth bun. She had a long and thin face that neither detracted nor added to her beauty. She was tall like a model, and had a long, tight, red dress on. She walked up to the table and smiled to the Malfoy family.

"Cronus Malfoy, Anthea Malfoy. It's a pleasure to finally meet you!" She had a heavy German accent. It was no surprise though, for she was born and raised in Germany.

Cronus Malfoy stood up from his chair, Abraxas and Anthea not soon after. Cronus walked up to the woman and shook her hand.

"Hannah Adlersflügel." She gave him a bright smile. She sat down on the only empty couch after the Malfoys sat down.

"You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" Abraxas glanced over at his father. He knew how much Cronus disliked cigarettes and was surprised when he waved his hand and created a cigarette tray at the table. She nodded her head in thanks and lit a cigarette. She signed and relaxed into the couch. Abraxas was surprised at how unladylike she acted.

"So, You know why I'm here, right?" She was not looking at them but everything else in the room.

"You sure have taste, you Malfoys. Everything looks so damn expensive." Abarxas decided that she did not fit into the beautiful dress—or her personality did not fit her beautiful face.

"Yes, I have been made aware." Cronus leaned forward into his chair. Abarxas was beginning to become nervous. Were they really doing this?

Hannah smiled before breathing out some smoke. She leaned forward to put it into the tray. She looked up and glanced over the Malfoy family - excitement clear in her eyes.

"Well then, no point in sticking around with formalities. What do you want to know about the Revolution? My Lord Grindelwald has instructed me to answer all your questions."

**To be continued.**

**A/N:** I know Cole's story is quite long and some of you may not understand why I'm even writing about her life - but you see, the thing is, I'm going to give her a bigger role than just the orphanage matron later in the story. So I actually have a reason for writing about her! :)


	10. X

**Disclaimer:** I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning: **There will be slash (homosexual relationship) in this fanfiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC Harry.

**A/N: **The tenth chapter has a bit of Harrison's past, since I thought it was about time I began to reveal it. :P Again I give many thanks to my beta, Kitskune Miyake!

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><p>"<em><strong>Hell is empty and all the devils are here" - William Shakespeare<strong>_

_**1932**_

_It was about to get dark outside in the dirty streets of London. The full moon brightened up the sky even through the greasy window. Harrison liked the moon very much, so much that if he had a choice in the matter, the sun would never rise. He was sitting on one of the few tall, old chairs in the kitchen. His feet did not reach the floor, so he always had to jump on it or get help from Arren when he wanted to sit on it. His mother would never help him. He hoped he would become as tall as Arren when he became big, or an adult as Arren called it. Then he would be able to sit down on chairs without any problem. He looked forward to that. Harrison glanced up at Arren, who was walking back and forth in the kitchen, making dinner._

_Arren Wilmer was a tall and strongly muscled man. He was only 40 years old, but his hair was already greying in most areas. When Harrison had asked him why his hair was so grey, he always said it was because he had been in contact with so much dust during the war. Harrison believed him and never questioned it. He had somewhat curly hair that was slicked back over his head, shiny from all the oil he used to make it stay put. Harrison thought that the best thing about Arren's appearance was his eyes. His eyes were grey, just like his hair, but they held such warmth, something Harrison rarely saw in the people around him. His face was tired and full of wrinkles - __he looked years older than he really was. Even though Arren sometimes acted depressed or paranoid-from the war his mother had said-he was an incredible person, someone to look up to. He gave Harrison a hope that there actually were people in this world that could be kind - that there existed men who would visit his mother just to talk to her and Harrison, nothing more. Of course he knew Arren had been a client of his mother some years ago, but he had apparently stopped after he had gotten some kind of disease from another whore. Harrison did not know the details, but it was the kind of sickness which only appear on people's genitals._

_"Harrison, could you go close the door?" He could understand that Arren wanted to close the door. His mother was awfully loud today, and it was never comfortable to listen to when eating. Nodding, he jumped off the chair and ran to close it. The faster he could make the noise and moans disappear, the better. He never liked listening to his mother when she was at work; it only reminded him that she was a prostitute - he had only recently learned that word from one of the kids who made fun of him and his mother._

_"Arren! What are we going to eat?!" He was standing beside Arren and trying to look up at what he was doing. Of course he failed since he was way too little to see anything. Eating with a grown up was always a big deal for Harrison. His mother usually never made anything, and when she did, it was far from healthy. Cassandra always bought large quantities of cookies and dry bread, so Harrison was always glad when he got warm food. Arren was also a very good cook - at least in Harrison's eyes._

_"Cabbage soup and freshly baked bread from the baker." A feast! Arren was such an incredible cook._

_"Really?!" Harrison made his way to the chair once again and jumped on it. He noticed that there wasn't any noise coming from his mother's workplace and hoped she was not yet finished. He did not want his mother here; she never could do anything good in the kitchen. Unfortunately, luck was not with him. Cassandra came barging into the kitchen, smacking the door into the wall as she opened it with an awful banging sound._

_"Hari! Baby!" Harrison looked worriedly around himself. She seemed drunk - which would be no surprise considering the few hours a day she usually was sober._

_"Mommy…" Glancing up at Arren he was relieved to see that he was coming to his rescue._

_"Cassandra. Would you like some soup? Harrison has been such a huge help in making it. Wouldn't you like to taste it?" Arren walked up to Cassandra and helped her to a chair while smiling happily. She slumped down on it. She looked horrible. Her makeup was all over her face, and Harrison noticed that she was sweating an awfully lot. There were also some liquids on her body that Harrison did not want to know. He looked away, embarrassed that he had such a mother. The other children in the street never wished to play with him because of her - how unfair._

_"No… ugh…. Get me some cigarettes, Hari." Not one to disobey her, especially when she was drunk he made his way over to the closet. She had an entire shelf for her cigarettes, alcohol and drugs. Cassandra snatched them from him when he gave them to her and ignored him as she lit up a cigarette._

_"Very well, Harrison, shall we eat?" Arren smiled down at him, and he almost forgot his horrible mother for a second. He nodded his head rapidly. They all sat down by the small kitchen table and Arren gave Harrison a bowl of soup. Arren had given him the largest bowl they had and it was steaming with warm, delicious-smelling soup._

_"Thank you, Arren! You're the best!" He gripped his spoon tightly, he wondered - Could he start eating? Arren glanced down at him and gave him the usual nod as a sign that it was alright to eat. Smiling happily up at him, Harrison began digging into the feast._

_Arren lifted a cup of coffee up to his mouth and changed his focus from Harrison to Cassandra. "How have your day been, Cassandra?" Cassandra looked irritatingly up at Arren, who in turn smiled back. He was not fazed by her irritation, never was._

_"Could've been better." She looked away from him._

_"Though I did have a good time with Michael today. He's such a good man, knows how to take care of a woman." She was gazing into the air. Harrison glance up at his mother. He did not like it when she talked about her clients. It reminded him that he had no father, only horrible clients who either made fun of him or hit him._

_"I see. Harrison, what about you?" Harrison looked away from his mother and into Arren's eyes. Why did his mother have to come and ruin their dinner? It annoyed him more than anything._

_"Okay, I guess…" He looked away like he always did when he was lying. Arren was not fooled._

_"What happened? Is it the neighbour's kids again?" Arren looked worried. It did not suit his appearance. He was too strong and tall to fit the worried face._

_"No…"_

_"Harrison." He bit his lip. He was really bad at keeping secrets from Arren, or maybe just generally._

_Harrison blurted it out. "It's my classmates! They're making fun of me!" Tears was beginning to gather in his eyes. It hurt even more that Cassandra was looking at him with uninterested eyes. How could she not care? Why would she not look at him with the same warmth and worry as Arren? Was there something wrong with him, just like all the other children at his age said there was? She rolled her eyes and breathed some smoke in his face making him cough._

_"Hari! Stop being a kid! You should be thankful you're-" she coughed, "-you're even going to school. Do you know how lucky you are that Arren is willing to pay your school fee? Shame on you!" She slurred through the words. It seemed like she was not as uninterested as she had looked. Tears began to roll down his cheeks._

_"But-"_

_"No buts… Stupid kid." The last part came out as a whisper, but he still heard it. Cassandra looked away, not wanting to be involved in what she deemed an unnecessary conversation. She was in an extremely bad mood today - more so than usual. Arren laid a hand at her arm and looked into her eyes._

_"Please, Cassandra. Let him be, he is only 6 years old. It's always important to listen to your children when they have something to say, don't you think?" He spoke in a smooth and calming voice, as if calming a wild animal, thought Harrison._

_"Do what you want!" She stood up, banging her hands into the table before storming out of the kitchen. Her cigarette had been forgotten at the table, so Arren picked it up and laid it in the cigarette tray. Arren signed and looked back at Harrison._

_"Don't mind your mother. I'm sure she's tired after a hard day at work. Eat your food while we talk, okay?" Harrison nodded before lifting the spoon with soup to his mouth. It tasted incredible. Nothing less than what he expected from Arren._

_"What happened, Harrison?"_

_"They're making fun of me…"_

_"Yes, you've said so. What did they do?"_

_"…"_

_"I can't help you if you don't tell me anything." Arren was sitting still, patiently waiting for an answer._

_"They're making fun of my birthmark… or whatever it is…" Harrison looked down at his hands. He hated it when the other children bullied him. Why could they not just let him play with them?_

_"I see… How did they see it?"_

_"They saw it after gym, in the showers." Yes. He was right, like always. Harrison never talked about his birthmark, because it looked too much like some sort of tattoo. Tattoos were not something good, at least in Harrison's eyes. That was why the only way for someone to find out that he had it was in the school showers-not that they were real showers, more like a bucket of water being emptied over their heads._

_"There's nothing wrong with it. I think it's quite nice, actually!" Harrison glanced uncertainty up at Arren. He had said it before, but it never helped how he felt concerning the birth mark._

_"It's ugly. I hate it!"_

_"Don't say that, Harrison. Did you know, the mark symbolises Odin's power? You know, the man from the Norse mythology." Harrison looked stubbornly away. Even so, he did not like it. The mark was a birthmark or a tattoo - he did not know which because it had been there as long as he could remember - but it was too precise to be a birth mark. The mark was placed precisely at his tailbone. He had been told by Arren that it was known by other religions and cultures as the ´Triple Horn of Odin´. It looked like a tattoo because it was pitch-black, not the usual skin colour birthmarks had. Harrison despised it and usually did whatever he could to hide it. It was too weird._

_"I don't care. I hate it! Mother has a different mark at the same spot… am I just like her?" He dried of some tears that was about to fall from his eyes. Arren was looking down at him and Harrison could not help but feel like Arren knew something about the mark he was not saying. Just like his mother, keeping secrets. Harrison jumped of his chair and considered walking up to his room to cry alone. He refused to be lied to. He hated that he was looked down upon by so many people. That they never gave him any recognition. It hurt and he hated feeling so weak. Arren sat down on his knees in front of Harrison and gripped his shoulders. He looked deeply into his eyes and his face was serious._

_"Listen, Harrison. You mustn't care too much about what other people think of you. They only make fun of you because they don't have such a special mark. Never let other people's opinion get in your way. You're an intelligent and special boy, if they can't give you some respect for who you are, then they're not worth worrying about!"_

_Arren never said anything about his mother's mark._

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><p><strong>1938<strong>

Harrison stared down at the floor in the train compartment. It was quite clean. Nothing less than expected from a magical train heading for Hogwarts - nevertheless it would have been nice to have some dirt on the floor to focus on. Then maybe he could forget the other boy in the compartment. Maybe he should have bought a gun or a knife so he could exorcise the evil spirit from the world. Tom was probably the most horrible and unpredictable person Harrison had met in his entire life.

Now you may ask what Harrison was doing in the same compartment as his hated enemy. It is a good question, so do not be afraid to ask.

Harrison had tried to be as far away from Tom Marvolo Riddle the entire holiday-because really, Tom could be classified as sociopathic, or something similar. Though it seemed that only Harrison saw Tom for who he really was-a dangerous and unpredictable person that would lower Harrison's life expectancy. Every plan to never associate with Tom had disappeared into the toilette the day they were about to leave for the train. Harrison had a plan to leave hours before he usually did so he could escape Tom. Guess who had stood outside of the orphanage when he was about to leave. No one else but the weird, snake-controlling boy. Harrison was cursed. Tom, of course, played the naive boy who desperately needed Harrison's help to get to the school, and with many of the personnel of the orphanage saying goodbye to them, what choice did he have but to go with him? When they had arrived at the train station, Harrison had planned on leaving him, but Tom took out his snake. Harrison hated snakes and he had no stone or chance to use magic, so he followed Tom. It was quite the blow to his pride. Really, he felt like he had lost constantly to Tom ever since he met him.

Harrison was not foolish, even if he had yet to win against Tom. He knew Tom was using him to meet older and more experienced wizards. Tom wanted power, that much he had understood. Harrison smirked to himself. Tom did not know how unpopular Harrison was and that he would not get anything from following Harrison. Tom would be just like him: humiliated for growing up in the Muggle world. Harrison wanted to laugh out loud. It would be so incredible and pleasing to see Tom hated by everyone else. He could not wait. He glanced up at Tom, sitting elegantly in the seat and staring out the window. He looked bored. Probably bored waiting for friends Harrison did not have. After all, Harrison had acquaintances, and they did not go looking for him. He noticed with irritation Tom's new robes. Tom had taken all his first years books, so of course he had money enough to buy new robes. It was smart. He would be able to do something Harrison had not succeeded in - looking presentable and rich. How unfair. Harrison would probably never see his books again, not after he witnessing Tom writing his own name in them the day before - after erasing Harrison's own of course.

Harrison hoped desperately that Tom would end up in another house than Slytherin, but he knew it was an unrealistic desire. Tom's personality suited Slytherin even more than Harrison's. He was doomed to spend six years at the same orphanage, school and House with him-how would he survive?

Harrison knew that if he wanted to win-if you could call it winning-then he would have to be smarter or better than Tom in certain areas. It had become clear during the summer holiday that Tom had more control of his power than Harrison, which was embarrassing considering that Tom had yet to begin at Hogwarts. This was why Harrison had decided that if he could not beat Tom in magical power and control, then he would beat him in knowledge. Harrison was unsure if he was weaker in magical power than Tom, but it felt like he was, so he would stick with learning more spells and facts than Tom. He refused not to be as good or better than Tom.

He looked away from Tom deciding not to spend unnecessarily time thinking about him. He picked up a newspaper he had brought from the orphanage. He refused to miss any knowledge about the outer world, even if it was the Muggle one, and always took the chance to get one when he could. The newspaper was the _Derby Evening Telegraph_, which he had gotten from the one of the girls working at the orphanage. She had family in Derby who knew the owner of the newspaper, giving her a way of getting an edition every day. It was incredible that the daily edition was delivered at the orphanages doorstep every morning at 7 o'clock.

Harrison glanced over the page he was reading and was about to change page after he read the title of an article: "A Derby Man's Diary." He stopped when he noticed another much more interesting at the bottom of the page.

_**IN MY OPINION**_

_**HITLER AND THE FUTURE OF THE REICH.**_

Oh, well that was interesting. Germany and the Nazis had been in lot of articles lately. Harrison glanced further down the article. From what he had read, there were a lot of people who had begun to get worried about the situation in Germany, though maybe it was nothing. He came upon a sentence which he hoped was true, because he certainly did not wish for another war. Not that he had been a part of the first one.

_"Does Germany want war?_

_"The German people certainly do not. The older men and women who remember the last war shrink with horror from the prospect of another. But what of the Government? I do not think that the present rulers of Germany want war. The danger to themselves is too great. Defeated a second time, the Reich could expect no mercy, while power in a victorious Germany would almost of necessity pass to the commander of the army. Who would that be? Neither Hitler nor Georing has the experience needed to command armies in the field.**(1)**"_

Sighing, he laid the newspaper down. It did not look as though there were any problems in Germany, though he did not believe it 100%, because he did not know enough to be sure.

Harrison hoped the Wizarding world was as peaceful and conflict-free as it looked. It would suck if the magical world did the same as Muggles had done. Though who would they fight against? Unlike the Muggle world, the wizards were of the same kind and all had magic so if they began fighting, then maybe it would be against other magical beings. Harrison quickly changed his opinion when he thought about wizards. They were biased about many things, like the Dark Arts, Muggleborns, certain magical creatures and many other things. Actually, looking at it from such an perspective it would not be weird if conflict escalated and a magical war began. Harrison sighed loudly, massaging his head.

"Cease your whining, Harry." Tom smiled pleasantly down at Harrison, ever the gentleman. He had yet to stop calling him Harry, even after all the times he told him not to call him that. Harrison had learned in the last months that the less he reacted to Tom's taunts, the less he would do it. Tom was only enjoying his uncomfortable feelings and irritation; if he did not get any response then why would he do it? He did not stop trying to irritate Harrison. Harrison wondered if they would ever get along after their first meeting had gone so horribly wrong. Not that he wanted to be a friend or an acquaintance to Tom. Tom would pay for disrespecting him so much!

Harrison sat mimicking Tom and smiled. He looked very pleased, and Tom probably noticed his sharp and somewhat hateful eyes that contrasted his body language - he was planning something, that was for sure.

"You'll never know what hit you." He had not meant for it to slip out, but when it did knew he would not regret it. Why would he? If Tom knew he had something against him, then maybe he would bother someone else.

"Excuse me?" Tom sat up from his relaxed pose to look into Harrison's eyes. Harrison noticed that he did not look irritated or agitated, but curious and somewhat excited-why didn't Tom have normal reactions to taunts?

"You heard me." Harrison refused to back down now.

"Harry." He almost sang his name, and Harrison became sure that he only said his name because he knew Harrison would become annoyed.

He grimaced and snapped out at Tom. "What? And do not call me that. We aren't even friends, so you have no reason to give me a nickname." Tom looked pleased, and Harrison noticed his mistake: he had reacted exactly the way Tom had wanted him to. Why had he done such a thing?

"Harry, are you sure you want me as your enemy?" Tom became uncomfortably serious, as though they were discussing life and death. Harrison swallowed. He had come to know Tom somewhat the last months and knew that a serious Tom was someone he did not want to mess with - at least, his instincts said so. Harrison was not going to back down, no matter if it made his hair stand on end.

He smiled, a fake smile as always, and tried to appear arrogant and confident. "What a foolish question, Tommy. I think we've always been enemies. And I am sure I can handle you." Tom did not react much, but Harrison could almost feel his irritation polluting the air. At least Tom had nothing he could use against him. Harrison was glad he only recently came to the orphanage; that way Tom had no blackmail material on him.

"Do not call me that." Uh oh, maybe he had gone to far? Harrison could not help but glancing away from Tom. He had actually made him react in an unusual way, which was kind of scary because he had absolutely no way of knowing how Tom would react. Though he could not give up now, maybe he could 'win' today ?!

"Why? If you give me a nickname, then I will give you one. Don't think it is cute, Tommy?" Tom looked stone cold now, expressionless. Then he did the most unexpected thing, at least for Harrison: he leaned back into his seat while crossing his legs. He brushed his hand through his hair and glanced arrogantly down at Harrison.

"You're not going to achieve anything by making me your enemy. We both know you have a good portion of magical power, so why not use it on something good and follow me." Harrison had lost his own arrogant expression and was looking shockingly at Tom. He could not follow Tom's mind, it was far too disturbed and weird to do so.

"Follow you? Follow _you_ of all people?" Well, it seemed like he would not win today.

"Yes. I'm going to go far in the magical world. You know it, and I know it. Why not use your talents on somebody worthy?" Tom was talking with such conviction that Harrison almost believed him. He could feel his anger rising. He would not follow someone who gave him no respect. How dare Tom even say Harrison should follow him!

Harrison rose from his seat and glared at Tom. "And you are 'somebody worthy'? Don'tt joke with me!" He even raised his voice-ah, how low he would fall when it came to Tom. Absolutely no self-control, how disgraceful.

"Oh, do you question my power? And I, who was so sure that you were different from all the Muggle children at the orphanage." Tom studied his nails, as though they were far more interesting than the angry boy standing in front of him. Tom knew how to play the game and enjoyed watching Harrison struggle to hold his footing. Harrison knew he would have to learn how to handle Tom soon, but it was difficult when Tom was so incredibly irritating. Was it normal to have such strong, negative feelings for a person he just met this summer?

"Are you comparing me with Muggle children? How dare you!" Harrison was shouting now.

Tom smirked. "But, Harry, you're not far from Muggle children. After all, you're born from two Muggles, the disgusting filth. And not just any Muggle, but a prostitute!" Harrison's tense body went almost limp and he stood there in shock.

He opened his mouth to answer, before closing it again. He stood there just staring at Tom as millions of scandalous scenarios flashed through his mind. When he finally found his voice he choked out, "How…?"

Tom looked as though he was on the top of the world, enjoying the situation way too much to be a normal wizard boy. "I think we both know that my brain is far more evolved than yours. Just by knowing your name, finding out about your life before the orphanage was easily achieved. Especially with my position at the orphanage." Did Tom seriously believe he was some kind of God or something? Even though this thought ran through Harrison's mind, it was of no importance-not when Harrison was racking his brain for a way to solve this horrible situation. Why did this happen again? Was it not him who normally was in Tom's position.? It was irritating to realise that he had far less control than he usually had. How he hated it.

"Harry, I'm sure you don't want your housemates to find out about your origin. Before you say anything foolish, I know you're in Slytherin-I've read_Hogwarts: A History _- I know what they believe in. Just by being a Muggleborn, your position in the hierarchy should be pretty fragile, but imagine what would happen if they found out your mother is a prostitute… Are you sure you want to oppose me?" Tom had brought his wand out of his pocket while he talked, and as a silent threat it laid in his hands. It was threatening, even though Harrison knew Tom had no knowledge of spells to use against him. Harrison fell heavily into his seat, numb from shock.

Glaring up at Tom, he whispered. "You would not dare."

"Oh, I dare, and you know it. I'll hang your origin on the rafters for all to see, just like I did to Billy Stubbs's rabbit." Tom was actually confessing one of his crimes. Though when Harrison thought about it, there was nothing he could do even if he knew.

Harrison leaned back and licked his lips. He was pissed. " Arsehole," he said showing a bit more teeth than necessary. What was he, an animal?

Tom laughed. "You think you can do anything to stop me from telling everyone? Please, Harry, you know better." Harrison swallowed. Shit. Something had to be done. Anything to get himself out of this situation. Why did he always become an idiot when he argued with Tom?

"Well, I'm a gentleman. So I'll give you until graduation to think about it… by that time I'll have enough 'friends' to make you disappear if you refuse. I'm quite merciful, am I not?"

Harrison's mouth was open in shock. "What the hell…"

"Language, Harry."

"… You… I… what?…" Harrison was confused, more than he had been in a long time.

Tom glanced at Harrison as though he was a small child. "Language, I said." Tom rose from his seat and brushed his clothes, as though they actually had some dust on them. "Well then, I think I'll be going. It is clear that you have absolutely no friends, so I'll gain nothing from sitting here. Be sure to think about my proposal. It would be a pity to see you pass away so young." Tom turned around to gather his things into his bag.

Behind him, Harrison was a volcano waiting to erupt. How dare he! How dare Tom disrespect him like this. Harrison glanced down at his hands and realised that he had to do something. He was losing again and again. He had to act so that he could regain his own pride, regain a certain respect not from Tom but from himself.

Before he could think any further, his body moved. As if navigated by an unknown source, Harrison Law moved on the first thought and idea to regain his respect. Whipping out his wand, he straightened his back and breathed deeply in, before letting the air out. Yes, that was what he was doing right now. Letting the air out of his body. This time, unlike the last one, he could actually feel his own magic begin to slowly shift and sneak out. It was here to play. He noticed Tom freeze from where he had been gathering his things and slowly glance over his shoulder. Tom looked shocked, how incredible and pleasant was that? Harrison pointed his wand at Tom, who had turned so that they were facing each other.

"You can't… I'll spread every information about you to the whole school, Harry." Tom smiled pleasantly, as if he thought he could change the idea in Harrison's mind.

Harrison felt incredible, probably from the adrenaline. He stared down at Tom. He knew he could not lose this fight. After all, right now he was the one with the most power. Had he not always known more than Tom? How could he have gone so low as to give up when he faced Tom the other times?

His eyes was cold, much too dark and fearless for an twelve-year-old boy. Tom swallowed, and Harrison knew he had won. By the look in Tom's eyes, he too knew he had gone too far.

Harrison took a step closer to Tom and pressed his wand into his breast. "This is what happens when you underestimate someone you never should turn your back to." Tom was now pressed up against the door and looked just as pissed as Harrison. Finally, it felt as though they were on equal grounds. Harrison was sure it was quite a blow to Tom's arrogance to be in such a position. He would have to get used to it though, because Harrison refused to bow his head one more time for this bastard!

"You wouldn't d-" Harrison whispered an incarnation. Tom was blown backwards, the compartment door unhinged from the door frame, and a loud boom was heard through the train. Harrison had blown Tom out into the corridor and there he was laying, with dust and pieces of wood from the door. Harrison breathed out quietly. This was what he had needed. This was the a way he could handle Tom. He had to respect himself enough to stand up for himself.

Harrison crouched down in front of Tom and mimicked Tom's wicked smile. "Well then, fuck you, Tom." He rose, went back in the compartment and gathered his things. Walking back into the corridor he stalked past Tom, ignoring him in search of another compartment.

Harrison Law, 12 years old, beginning his 2nd year at Hogwarts, was by nature a very proud human being. He had respect issues and despised people who could not give him some kind of recognition. How could he-who hated the feeling of weakness and of being disrespected - handle the weird sociopath who had entered his life? In his eyes it was hard to say. Though his action just now had proved that as long as he had some respect for himself, and did not let other people bring him down, there was nothing he could not do - almost.

Just as Arren said: _"Never let other people's opinion get in your way. … if they can't give you some respect for who you are then they're not worth worrying about!"_ Tom was indeed no one worth worrying about!

* * *

><p>Tom was furious. He was still lying on the floor in the corridor, with bits and parts of the compartment door as a cushion. It had been almost 5 minutes since the would-be-dead boy had walked away from him. Staring up into the roof, he moved his fingers. How wonderful it would have felt to have Harrison's neck between his hands, seeing the light leave the green eyes. Tom breathed out and tried to relax. It would be no good if he through too much about the foolish boy. After all he had much more important things to do. Though it was not an easy job to forget one of the few people in his life who had actually done such a thing to him. Actually, it was the first time something like this had happened to him. It was quite interesting, now that he tried to look at the situation.<p>

Tom was angry, yes, but he would not let himself be controlled by his emotions too much. Especially not now. Though, one thing was clear. Harrison had actually surprised him and confirmed that he had power - the kind of power Tom loved. He had to have Harrison and his power at some point in the future. Smirking to himself, he glanced down into his hands. It had been so exciting when he had felt Harrison's power slowly come out to play. He had not expected him to do such a thing.

Harrison was unpredictable that way, and Tom loved it. How fun it would be playing more games with the aggressive boy! He could not wait. He began with a chuckle which soon erupted in a full out laugh. Tom absolutely loved this new world. It was so good that it could be no one else's but his.

After all, when Tom Marvolo Riddle found something he liked, he had to possess it no matter what.

**To be continued**

**(1)** - the article is from a real Derby Evening Telegraph, 1. September. 1938. Hope it was not extremely boring, I just felt that it was quite important as the World War II will have some consequences for both the Muggle and Wizarding World.


	11. XI

**Disclaimer:** I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter

**Warning:** There will be slash(homosexual relationship) in this fan fiction. You have been warned. Eventual TR/HP. OOC!Harry.

**A/N:** I'm so sorry that for the long wait - but here it is, chapter 11!

Many thanks to Kitskune Miyake, my incredible beta reader.

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me." ー William Shakespeare<strong>_

His heart was beating erratically in his chest. The breath coming out in short gasps as he ran through the corridor. Slowly, the taste of metal entered his mouth, and he came to a halt, swallowing air as though he could never get enough of it. He was doomed. Doomed to lose everything he had earned, just because of bad luck. Really, it was nothing else than bad luck.

The compartment he and Tom shared at the beginning of the trip was situated in the end of the train, so it was quite a long walk if one chose to get to the driver cart. The Hogwarts express was an incredibly huge train.

When Harrison strolled away from the Tom, he had been fully satisfied with the result of his magic. Then he remembered. Tom knew. He knew about Harrison's mother, his crazy, child abandoning mother.

He was doomed. No way Tom would keep such a secret now after Harrison did such a thing to him. It was because of this realisation that Harrison began running as fast as he could through the corridors of the train. It was the only way he could get out his worrisome feelings. He stumbled through the corridors, bumped into people and food carts without turning once, not even to apologise after he pushed a small girl to the floor.

Harrison leaned against the door to an empty compartment. Gripping his hair, he breathed deeply in and out. "Everything is wrong…" he mumbled quietly to himself. "There has to be something wrong with me…" He stared down at his hands, as if they had the answers for all his questions.

A few students walked past him, glancing weirdly at him. He paid them no mind. They were not worth his attention. He had a much larger problem at hand.

There was something wrong with him.

Harrison had never considered himself to be an aggressive person. As long as he could remember, he was usually in control of his actions and rarely acted on his instincts. It was one of the many reasons he had survived with his mother for so long. After all, he had learned early on that if he acted on his emotions then he would be punished. So it did not make sense that he recently, almost out of the blue, began to be so much more aggressive and emotional. And it all started when he met Tom.

The bag he had thrown, the nose he had broken, the snake he had threatened to crush, and now the attack on Tom. He would never have done such a thing a year ago. Something was wrong, was there not?

Ever since he had met Tom it had felt as though he had been freed from chains he never knew he had in the first place. What could have happened to result in such a change? Maybe it was a symptom from their magical reaction when they first met. Licking his dry lips, Harrison brushed his sweaty hands on his robes. He would have to do some experimenting on his magic to be certain if a change had occurred. It would be difficult to know if anything had changed when he did not have a sample of his magic from before the occurrence though. No, experimenting would not help.

Gritting his teeth, Harrison straightened his back. Glancing into an empty compartment to his left, he whispered to himself, "One thing is certain, the magical reaction has somehow loosened my self-control. I'm embarrassingly aggressive and instinctive… Shit… Why am I even talking to myself?"

Harrison opened the compartment door and went inside. After securely locking and closing the curtains he sat heavily down in the seat. He tried to breath slowly, to relax. It was all right. Everything was alright. There was no way Tom would tell anyone. After all, had he not said that he would wait until Harrison graduated? So, he would not say anythingーright? Leaning back he stared up at the roof. Who was he kidding? Of course Tom would tell everyone after Harrison had humiliated him like that. Feeling a bit hysterical Harrison began to laugh quietly to himself. Quieting, he let the panic take a hold of him.

"…I'm going to lose everything… what am I going to do? What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" He was back to gripping his hair, eyes wide and breath picking up pace. He was hyperventilating. Harrison felt lost, as though the entire world had disappeared and he was left alone in suffocating darkness.

A click was heard and Harrison looked towards the door. Didn't he lock it?

In the now open compartment door stood a young boy, probably around Harrison's age. He had a bowl cut, and his hair was dark brown. Around plain brown eyes he had huge, half-rimmed glasses. He stared at Harrison, and Harrison could not help but stare back. The boy was not ugly, but the bowl cut and the glasses made him look hilariously geeky. Despite the brown haired youth's silly appearance, Harrison's horrible mood refused to budge. He stood up and walked up to the boy. Standing nose to nose, he looked intensely into the boy's eyes.

"Get out, boy," he whispered. It did not matter if he was older than Harrison or not. If he was foolish enough to open a locked door, then he was nothing more than a kid.

The boy swallowed, and glanced down at his feet. "I'm sorry… I jus-" Harrison reached out and gripped the boy's uniform. "Get. Out." He pushed the boy into the corridor. "Why are you even here? I locked this compartment." Harrison took a step towards him. The boy glanced worriedly around himself searching for help. "I…" Before he could say anything else, the compartment door on the other side of Harrison slid open.

"Malcolm, where have youー" Glancing up from the irritating boy, he saw Minerva McGonagall. "Harrison, what are you doing?" She stared at him in a coldly manner, as she always did, her hair pulled up an old-fashioned bun.

Minerva McGonagall had been his study partner since the beginning of first year. They studied together two times a week, sometimes with other students. Slowly they had grown closer, and she was one of the few people Harrison considered a friend. Harrison was not sure though; he had never really understood the definition of friendship, so he could not say for sure what kind of relationship they had.

Glancing towards the boy, who had moved behind Minerva, he swallowed. "I… I am sorry. I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today." It was hard to apologise, especially when it did not feel as though he had done anything wrong.

The boy behind Minerva glared at him, before whispering, "Yeah, that's for sure." Harrison gritted his teeth, before he sighed. He would gain nothing by quarrelling.

Giving his best fake smile, he glanced over at the boy. "Hey, I am sorry, all right?" The brown haired youth only looked away, clearly as pissed as Harrison felt.

Minerva looked over her shoulder to the young boy, before clicking her tongue in annoyance. "There you have it, Malcolm. I don't know what happened between you two, and honestly, I don't care. He apologised, so let it go." She met Harrison's eyes and gave a faint smile. "Actually, you should be glad to get an apology at all. He usually never apologises to people he doesn't feel are worth it." She was mocking both him and the boy ーMalcolm, as she had called him.

Malcolm sputtered. "But, sister! This guyー"

"Malcolm, I don't care. And just so you know, this guyー" she pointed rudely at him "ーis my friend." Harrison raised his eyebrows. All right, so it seemed as though he had not misunderstood the usual definition of friendship and been right that the relationship they had was just that: friendship.

A nasty smirk spread across his face as he looked at Malcolm. "So you're Minerva's brother? I would never have guessed that someone like you could have some kind of relation to her. After all, she has quite the reputation at our school. One would think high IQ went in the family, but it seems not."

Malcolm's face became burning red, and he was about to step past Minerva, when she stopped him. "Don't be an imbecile. This guy's not someone you can handle."

Harrison showed her a hurt look. "You make me sound like some bad guy, Minerva."

She eyed him coldly, but he could see a faint sparkle in her eyes. She never was the one to show much expression. Hands at her hips, she looked superiorly down at him. "Well, you're certainly not good. If you were, you wouldn't have been placed in Slytherin?"

It was meant as a joke, but it seemed as though someone took it seriously. Malcolm's eyes widened and he stepped in front of his sister, as though he was protecting her. "He's a Slytherin? Get away from him!"

Minerva sighed loudly and shook her head. "Imbecile. Let go of your unrealistic bias for Slytherins. It'll only get you into trouble," she scolded.

"Do you hear what you're saying, Minerva?!" Harrison glanced between the arguing family members. Well, apparently their IQs _weren't_ the only differences between the two siblings.

"Please, you're embarrassing me. Stop acting like a child." Malcolm turned his back to Harrison to face Minerva. It was an incredibly foolish move. If Harrison was so dangerous, then was it smart to turn his back to him?

"Minerva! Don't you know? Slytherin is full of arrogant Purebloods who wish that every Muggleborn and half-blood would disappear. They share their view with the creator of the house, Salazar Slytherin!" Both Harrison and Minerva was now staring stupidly at the boy.

"Malcolmー" Minerva tried.

"No! Why can't you see it?" He turned to glare at Harrison. "You!" Harrison raised an eyebrow. Not being able to help himself, he grinned. "Yes, it's all true! Every Muggleborn should die!" He threw out his hands and began to laugh. Minerva stared shockingly at him. Her reaction was not a surprise; after all, she had never seen him act like this before. He could not help himself; her brother was just so hilarious.

Malcolm's mouth was open, and he blinked stupidly. He seemed to get a hold of himself as he stepped back with a scared look on his face. "There you see! He's crazy!"

Harrison leaned against the wall, snickering. "Minerva, I just love your brother." He said to Minerva, who sighed.

She took a strong hold of Malcolm's shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Malcolm, this guy's name is Harrison Law. Do you get what I'm trying to say?" Malcolm clearly did not.

"What-"

Minerva turned him around so that he was standing in front of Harrison. "Look closely at this short, green eyed guy. His name is Harrison Law. His surname is Law. You get it?"

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't understand what you are trying to say, sister." She gave him a slap on the head and he glared back at her. "What?" Minerva ignored his question for an explanation and walked past him. She came up to Harrison and took hold of his left shoulder. Giving him a small smile, she pushed his face into the wall.

Harrison winced. "What the hell…" Having known her since the first year, he knew she would not do something incredible foolish. So he let her hold him against the wall, no matter how much it annoyed him. He felt her finger poking him in the back. "Malcolm, this guy is a Muggleborn." Harrison could not understand why she had to push him into the wall to tell her brother that. It was beginning to become uncomfortable.

"What! But he said…"

"He's an idiot," Minerva said as though it explained everything.

"Oh," Malcolm answered as though it answered every question. So they were related after all.

"Minerva, could you stop pushing me into the wall?" He tried to move, but she pushed harder. Now it was just annoying. Gritting his teeth, he once again tried to relax.

"Why?"

"What the hell, Minerva?!" He brought his hands up to the wall and pushed against it.

Minerva, who was pretty weak, quickly let go of him. "Relax, Harrison. I was only having a bit of fun. It's not everyday I get to control your movements ー I had to take the chance when I could."

Harrison glared at her, massaging his sore chin and sighed. "Whatever." He looked over at Malcolm who was staring at Harrison. "What's your problem?!" he snapped at the boy.

Malcolm licked his lips. "So ー you're a Muggleborn?" he whispered.

Angry that he had to explain something so obvious, he slammed his fist in the wall. Pointing a finger at his own face he all but snarled at boy. "Does this look like the face belonging to a pureblooded wizard?!"

Staring into Harrison's green eyes, Malcolm mumbled his answer.

"Yes."

* * *

><p>He was whispering himself. "This is me, everything that I am."<p>

If he was really lucky, then the pagan ritual he had read about in his book would actually work "This is my bad luck. Leave me now, you're not welcome here anymore. I shed no tears over the parting."

When he thought about it, there was no way it would work if he only said the prayer. Without the candles and the blessed oil, if could no nothing but to ease his worries. "This one neutralises any remnants of bad luck. They dissolve into nothingness now."

He was sitting at the Slytherin table. The sorting was about to begin, but he did not pay any attention to it. "This one represents the changes for good which are coming into my life. I welcome them with open arms." The first year students entered the great hall. The sorting began. Name after name was spoken by the debut headmaster. Student after student was sorted into different houses: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

Tom's name came booming through the hall, and Harrison glanced up as Tom strolled arrogantly up to the stool. Staring down at his hands, he ceased reciting the mantra quietly to himself and instead screamed it inside his head. "This is the astral energy that I need to speed up the change." The hall was quiet, the clock was ticking, and the hat was speaking in another person's mind.

The hat's choice of house was screamed out and time ceased to exist.

The last part of the prayer belonging to the pagan ritual for luck, was quietly whispered out. "I welcome change. I welcome the incoming good into my life."

Sealing his future.

* * *

><p>Harrison had been stabbing at the potatoes with his fork for the last ten minutes. When the ones he had on his plate were wholly squashed, he took some new ones and began again, glaring at the irritating person sitting in front of him.<p>

"Why are you sitting there?" He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and dragged it over his plate. It created an incredibly uncomfortable scraping sound. Harrison noticed a few people wincing, but he was too focused on taking his anger out on the person in front of him to notice.

Tom smiled, and Harrison imagined his fork being imbedded deeply in one of the jerk's mahogany eyes. "Harry, how hurtful! And I who was so sure you wanted me close to you." _Sick bastard_ was the only answer Harrison could think of. He clicked his tongue and looked away.

Even though it was annoying that Tom paid him so much attention, he felt beyond relieved when he realized that Tom had yet to tell anyone of his secret. Tom always managed to do the thing he was least expecting. Judging from how Tom was acting right now, he probably still stood with his offer, that he would wait until Harrison graduated. Harrison was unsure if that was a good thing.

Sighing, he gazed over the table, careful not to look at Tom. He noticed Abraxas at the other end. Furrowing his eyebrows, he remembered that he had yet to even greet the blonde. Why was he even sitting at the other end of the table? He never sat there.

His eyes met Abraxas's. He was about to nod his head in recognition, but before he could do anything, Abraxas turned away from him. Ignoring him. Harrison's mouth opened and he choked out a whisper. "What…" Do not misunderstand. Harrison did not feel neglected or hurt. What he felt was much stronger than that. It was anger.

Harrison stared coldly in Abraxas's direction. Had he not earned a bit of Abraxas's respect when they first met? They had come to an agreement to equally respect each other, so why was Abraxas acting as though Harrison never earned respect in the first place? How dare he!

"Harry." Harrison glanced carefully up at Tom, placing his anger behind locked doors. Aggressive behaviour would not help him.

"Leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you. Understand?" He rose from his seat, looking coldly at Tom. There was a threat hidden in his voice.

Tom just shrugged. Harrison noticed excitement in his eyes. Did he get excited from Harrison's lack of control? Was not aggressive manner and lack of self-control something to be looked down on? Harrison began to stroll out of the Great Hall.

"See you, darling," he heard, and he stopped instantly, feeling his anger rise.

Gripping his fists, he looked into Tom's eyes as he gave him a disturbing smile. "Be careful, honey." Not being able to handle Tom's presence any longer he began to stroll away from the table.

"You know Law?" he heard a third year Slytherin ask someone, most probably Tom.

As he opened the door out of the Great Hall, he heard the last sentence form the conversation. "Yes, I know him quite well. We're practically family," Tom's politely replied in a smooth voice. He was like another person when he talked to other people. It pissed Harrison off.

The corridors outside of the Great Hall was quiet. It was very comfortable. As Harrison got closer to the dungeon, the temperature began to drop. It was always somewhat cool in the Slytherin common room. The good thing about the location to his House was that it never got uncomfortably hot in the summer.

As he slowly strolled towards the common room, he could not help but think about his meeting with young Malcolm earlier that day. Harrison could never understand why so many purebloods, or half-bloods for that matter, thought he looked like a pureblood. How could you even judge blood purity by face? It was not possible, at least not in Harrison's mind. It annoyed him that he always had to tell people that he was a Muggleborn. Glancing into his reflection in a window as he walked past, he snorted. So what if he had a pretty face? Were they so prejudiced that they could not believe a handsome person could be a Muggleborn? Or was there truth behind their words? No, he refused to think about the possibility that he carried some sort of magical bloodline.

Arriving in front of the entrance to the common room, he muttered the password and strolled inside. He was probably just overthinking it. Yes, that was it. After a good night of sleep, such horrible thoughts would leave him-or so he thought.

* * *

><p>Abraxas bit his nails, a nervous gesture he knew was inappropriate for the heir of the Malfoy family. Glancing around the corridor he noticed that almost everyone had arrived. Except Harrison. He was never too early or too late. Especially when they were only going to Potions.<p>

They had been at Hogwarts for two months, and Abraxas had yet to even greet the Muggleborn boy. It was clear that Harrison was pissed, judging from the small glares that was sent to him every time their eyes met. He felt a bit conflicted about his choice. Was ignoring the boy really the right one? His father had always told him that it was important to keep powerful people close to the chest, both possible enemies and acquaintances. Was it clever to throw away a potentially powerful person?

He tapped his left foot against the floor and began to bite on the nail on another finger. He was beyond stressed, to the point that it clearly affected his physical abilities. The lack of sleep was not healthy for a growing magical core.

"Malfoy, have you seen the newcomers?" Pulling away from his stressful thoughts, he saw Mitchell Blishwick. The boy had grown over the summer from somewhat tall to disturbingly tall. It was just ugly, that height with such a thin body. Luckily for him he was a Pureblood, so his face was acceptable. He had the typical high cheekbones of the other purebloods.

He leaned back in his usual arrogant stance, looking coldly at Blishwick. "Newcomers?"

"The first years-the weakest of the house!" Blishwick snickered and smirked nastily. Hr was probably imagining the endless ways he could bully the first years. Evander Lestrange came up to Blishwick with Adelaide Richmond.

Richmond glared at the tall boy. "You're disgusting. Don't you think you should be careful about what you say? The Avery and Rosier family is much higher in the political society-and richer for that matter-than yours. _And_ they are first years." She threw her blond-brown hair behind her shoulder, sneering at Blishwick.

Lestrange sighed and shook his head. Richmond noticed and shifted her glare to him. "What? I'm not wrong about thisー" Her gaze swept over the gathered students "ーand you know it."

Blishwick snickered. "You're just scared." He strolled up to her, but he could not get close as she pointed her wand into his chest.

"Don't come closer, you dirty animal." Her voice was smooth and calm, but it was clear that she was angry.

Blishwick took a step forward forcing her to retreat. "Were you not just talking about being careful about what you say?"

Richmond lowered her wand slowly, but kept it in her hand. "I don't have to be careful around someone from such a low birth as you."

Blishwick whipped out his wand and they both seemed to ready themselves to throw some curses. "What did you say, bitch?!"

"What did you call me?!"

Abraxas sighed and glanced away from the commotion. He knew that most were expecting him to do something. As the Malfoy heir, he had the most power. Strolling up to Blishwick he laid a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. You're embarrassing your family's name." Meeting the boy's eyes, he could see the realisation kicking in.

Blishwick straightened up and put his wand away. Giving a last glare to Richmond, he thumped away-probably to stand alone a few meters away to sulk.

Abraxas met Richmond's eyes. She blushed. He was really tired. Why did he have to deal with everything? It would not be a surprise if he caught a cold one of these days from the stress and nervousness that lowered his immune system. He took her hand in his and brought it up to kiss it. That's what he learned to do when apologising to a lady. "Miss. Richmond, I apologise for my friend's inappropriate behaviour."

Her face was pink, but she managed to answer in a polite voice. "No, it's all right."

"That's a relief." He gave her a small gentle smile which she returned. Abraxas blinked and fought the impulse to massage his eyes. A Pureblood of his standing could not do such a thing. Maybe it would be smart to get a Pepperup Potion at the infirmary?

The group was blissfully quiet for a moment before Lestrange had to say something. "While we're talking about first years, have you seen the so-called genius?"

Richmond raised an eyebrow. "You mean our new Muggleborn?" Abraxas listened closely, he had been so out of it this year that he had not heard much about this genius.

Lestrange shook his head. "Yes, but he isn't a Muggleborn. He's actually half-blood."

"Really?" It was Diana Flint, who had decided that the conversation was finally interesting enough to join. Lestrange nodded.

Carreen Carrow snorted and shook her head. "What can possible be so special about him? We already have an exceptional enigma in our House, right? How can he possibly be better than Law?" All of them shook their head at her words. It was no secret that Carreen Carrow had a huge crush on Harrison Law.

"I can't say for sure, but from what I've heard, the new guy is just pure talent." Carrow opened her mouth, but Lestranger kept on talking before she could say anything. "Law has an incredible intellect-can't disagree with it no matter how much it pisses me off." Lestrange gritted his teeth. He and some others bullied Harrison in the first year but stopped after the Muggleborn boy had kicked his arse. Even though he disliked the boy, he could not look away from the truth that he had a very good intellect. "But the new boy… what's his name?" Lestranger glanced over to Flint, who pursed her lips. "I know his surname's Riddle… but I can't remember his first name. Thomas? Tommy? Well, whatever-what were you saying Evander?"

Lestranger nodded to himself, gathering his thoughts. "If Law has the brains, then Riddle has the power. His magical core has to be unnaturally huge. He can fire spell after spell and never get tired. It's quite incredible. I bet the wizarding part of him must come from a very pure line; there is no way someone with normal blood can do such things." The group became quiet. Abraxas processed the new information. He should probably get to know the boy if he was so incredible. After all, strong people were useful. Although, he wasn't sure if his father would think it was acceptable to get close to the half-blood. He bit his nail.

Carrow glared at Lestrange. "How could you say that? Harrison has a huge magical core. We all know it!" It was true-Abraxas had experienced Harrison's power when they first met. It was not small, that was for sure.

Lestrange opened his mouth before closing it. Clearly unsure about how to respond.

Flint looked thoughtfully into the air. "To be honest, I think the biggest difference between the two is control." Licking her lips, she continued. "Harrison has never had the most incredible control over his magic-actually it was pretty bad in the beginning of the first year. Even though it's acceptable now, it's not above average."

Abraxas nodded. "Yes, that's true." Now that Abraxas had joined the conversation, more seemed interested.

"Right!? Riddle, on the other hand, has such good control over his magic that he can do wandless magic! If the rumour I've heard is true, that is." Flint's eyes sparkled excitedly as she talked.

Carrow glanced suspiciously at Flint. "Wandless? Are you sure, Diana?" Flint nodded. Abraxas was about to ask where that information came from, when a loud voice interrupted him.

"Did you hear that, Law? You're no longer the genius in our House! Mudblood." Abraxas looked past the group of people and noticed Blishwick standing in the middle of the corridor with his back to them and his face to Harrison Law.

Law sighed and adjusted the books under his arm. "Could you move? It's incredibly unpleasant to look at your disgusting appearance." Law smirked, and Abraxas saw Blishwick take out his wand. That boy never learned, it seemed. It was maybe less of a problem since Law was a Muggleborn, but he was one of the top students in their year, so it was not a very clever move. He did not have to do anything this time. Law was a Muggleborn, so he could just let it be.

Blishwick laughed out loud. "You think you're something special? I'll show you just how insignificant you are, Mudblood!" He pointed his wand at Law, who took a cautious step back.

"What is going on here?!" All the students turned to the voice. Behind Law stood Horace Slughorn. Abraxas was relieved. He was beyond tired, so the faster they could enter the classroom, the better.

Why had his father decided to follow Grindelwald? The Malfoy family had enough power as it was. By choosing such a path, new rules had been introduced into Abraxas's life. "Do not have unnecessarily contact with Muggleborns or half-bloods if they are not worth it." "Act appropriate as the heir of the Malfoy family." "Do not disagree with the choices of the Head of the House." There were many more, but he refused to think too much about it. If he followed the unwritten rules, then his father would be proud.

* * *

><p>Harrison glanced behind to see Horace Slughorn. The man still looked the same as before the summer holiday, aside from a small increase in body mass.<p>

"Good morning, professor. Everything is alright. My friend and I just had a small argument, that is all." He gave Slughorn a small smile and politely stepped aside so that he could pass through. Blishwick looked pissed, but Harrison knew he could not do anything as long as the teacher was there.

"Very well." The fat man thumped past him up to door. "Oh, was it locked?" The man smiled brightly at the nearest person, which happened to be Diana Flint, a Pureblood.

"Yes, it was, professor."

"Curious. I was so sure I had unlocked it this morning," he said as he unlocked the door.

Harrison hurried inside the classroom. It was not smart to be near Blishwick longer than necessary. If they ended up fighting, then he would win, but fighting with an idiot was such a waste of time.

"Sit down!" Slughorn was standing behind his desk gazing excitedly down at his students. "You're probably wondering why I'm so excited today. Yes, I am right, am I not?" He wrote something on the blackboard. Harrison leaned to the side so he could see what was written.

"Purity Potion?" He had not read about it in any of the obligatory potion books, so he had absolutely no idea what kind of potion it was.

"Does anyone know what this Potion is used for?" Slughorn looked across the classroom, clearly hoping that someone knew about it.

When no answer came, he sighed. "Well, I wasn't expecting anyone to know it." Slughorn picked a small glass container up from the desk, the one with him when he opened the classroom. He lifted it up and shook it. "This is snake venom. We'll be using it in our potion. I bet a lot of you are wondering what kind of potion it is. So I'll tell you." He smiled. "The Purity potion is something I've never done before, since it isn't a part of curriculum. But I thought it was about time we did a potion just for fun! The Purity potion is a potion that'll show how pure ones blood is." Whisper spread across the classroom.

Harrison lifted up his hand and waited for Slughorn to notice it.

"Yes, Mr. Law."

"What kind go purity are we talking about?"

"That's a good question. We're talking about the amount of magical blood in your own blood." He nodded to himself, before continuing. "Muggle blood will coagulate if it comes in contact with the venom, but 100% pure blood from a wizard does not react at all. Isn't it incredible? The Unspeakables have researched the venom and made a potion to show just how pure ones blood really is." Awe crossed every face. Harrison had to agree that it was quite incredible, but was more interested in why wizard blood wouldn't react to the venom. Maybe he could do some research about it when he graduated from Hogwarts. Since Muggle and Wizarding blood reacted differently, it could be used to learn why wizards could do some branches of magic while people with Muggle blood could not.

Slughorn sighed heavily. "The only problem is that all other magical beings don't react to the venom either. So if a full-blooded troll decided to try it out, he would be as pure as a Pureblooded wizard, according to the potion. There are better potions that'll decide the purity of one's blood, but at your level, this is the only one we can do." As though the fact that the venom didn't react to other magical beings were something horrible. Though maybe it was, for arrogant wizards.

"We'll make the potion, and you'll add some of your blood to it before the lesson is over. It usually takes about 10-15 minutes for Muggle blood to coagulate, so we'll study them if there's time. I'll draw an illustration on the blackboard so the students with Muggle blood will know what to expect." Slughorn was about to turn around to draw his illustration, when one of the Gryffindors coughed to get attention.

"Yes?" He smiled warmly down at the young boy.

"What do you mean, 'Muggle blood'? We're all wizards here, how can we have Muggle blood in us?" The boy was clearly a Muggle born or a half-blood, since almost every Pureblood seemed to know what Slughorn had been talking about. Of course they knew. They had to know why they were better than the Muggleborns. It irritated Harrison to no end.

"Well, you see, while Muggleborns maybe have magic, they are born from two non-magical parents. The genetic material and blood will be fully Muggle. There's a reason why Muggleborns can't become an Animagus." Slughorn turned around from the shocked boy, clearly deeming the conversation over.

Harrison looked at the illustration as he followed the instructions on the paper, which had been spread out as Slughorn had talked. The potion was incredibly easy, so it didn't demand as much attention as some other potions did.

According to the illustration were there about 3 possible outcomes to the test, though in different degrees of coagulation if one had Muggle ancestry: 1) There was no Muggle blood in the added blood- no coagulation at all; 2) Half of ones blood was Muggle - about half of the potion vial would coagulate; 3) Only Muggle blood in the added blood - everything would coagulate.

From there were different degrees of coagulation. They would add some herbs to colour the non coagulated blood. So for a half-blooded would half of the vial be a red coagulated substance, while the wizarding blood would get a dark blue colour.

Harrison snorted when he read that the wizarding blood would get a blue colour. Where they really so desperate to be better than other species. Blue blood, the blood of the royal.

Harrison glanced once again at what he was doing. Slughorn had chosen the worst potion possible. Looking at their result would end in humiliation for many, for sure.

The class finished quickly. The Purebloods walked away with conversations concerning who was the purest, the half-bloods were silent, while many of the few Muggleborns whispered nervously together.

Harrison glanced over his hands. Sometimes he hated the wizarding society: they all talked about how much better they were than the Muggle world, but in the end where were the difference they were talking about?

He was not sure.

* * *

><p>Harrison gathered his books and was about to leave the classroom. It was two days later, and they should be getting the results, but Slughorn had put it of. Telling them he had forgotten it and refused to walk all the way to his room to get them. Instead it had been the usual work: follow the instructions, make the potion, be quiet.<p>

"Mr. Law." Meeting Slughorn's eyes, he was surprised to see the man looking at him in wonder. What had he done?

"Yes?"

"Please remain." It was not the usual question; it was a command.

"Of course, professor." Every student left, and Harrison was alone with the massive man. As the last person in the room, he slowly strolled up to the Slughorn's man looked uncharacteristically serious. Slughorn waved his wand, and a chair came flying up to the desk.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Law." It was weirdly quiet as he sat down.

Luckily, Slughorn had something on his mind and broke the horrible silence. "Mr. Law… Do you know who your father is?"

Stunned he whispered out. "What?"

Slughorn folded his hands and looked into Harrison's eyes. "Your father. Do you know him?" Out of every thing he had expected, this was not it.

"No. I do not." It came out as a whisper. He never liked talking about his father, as it was a quite sore point. His mother always got angry when he asked. When she did say something, it was never consistent. He was rich, he was poor, an intelligent person, a thief, a fisherman, a dwarf. She never told the same lie.

"I see… Your mother, what about her?"

"Excuse me, my mother?" His voice was filled with confusion. "Professor, I do not understand what my parents have to do with this." Slughorn sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"They have everything to do with this conversation, Mr. Law." Harrison licked his lips and tried to grasp the situation. It did not make any sense. What was Slughorn talking about? Realisation kicked in, and he looked up at the professor.

"Is this about the Purity Potion?"

Slughorn nodded and opened a shelf at the side of the desk. "Yes, I've been told you're a Muggleborn, Mr. Law."

Harrison decided that he disliked the serious Slughorn. It did not fit him, at all. "I am born from a Muggle woman, and if I am not mistaken, my father is also a Muggle. So, yes - I am a Muggleborn." This was a fact, an unquestionable truth he could never escape from.

Slughorn's seriousness increased, and he seemed to find whatever he had been searching for in his desk. He brought it up and slammed it against the desk, shocking Harrison.

"Then how do you explain this, young man?" It was the vial with the potion.

Harrison looked at it, and his breath stopped. Mouth hanging open he choked out:

"I can't."

**To be continued!**

**A/N: **Next chapter Harrison's blood status will be the big topic!


	12. XII

**Disclaimer:** I am not J. K. Rowling and does not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.

**A/N: **The next chapter is finally here, enjoy! **  
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_**Lies require commitment. - Veronica Roth**_

"You can't?" Slughorn whispered disbelievingly while eyeing Harrison critically, as though Harrison had told him a lie.

Harrison's face had gone pale when the vial had been slammed against the desk and had yet to regain its colour. He was sitting still like a cold statue, refusing to show his emotions. Hell, he was a Slytherin, and even though he had been quite Gryffindor-ish the last month, he had not lost the characteristics that got him into the House of Slytherin.

Clearing his thoughts, he stared unwaveringly into Slughorn's eyes, who curiously returned the stare. "I can't. I should - without any doubt - be a Muggleborn. I have no explanation for the result of the potion." His sentence was stilted, not as relaxed and confident as he had hoped it would sound, but he was satisfied that he was able to talk at all.

Swallowing down bubbling anger, he continued. "You are sure you have not mixed my position with another students?" Harrison knew it was impossible, not when his own name-tag was written on a neatly glued paper on the vial, but maybe if he was lucky then Slughorn would reveal that he had indeed mixed some vials. Then he would not have to rewrite his past and find someone to blame - a certain someone he wanted in the same room so he could strangle her.

"No, I don't believe there's a possibility of me mixing the vials," Slughorn chuckled while shaking his head. "I've never mixed any potion throughout all my years at Hogwarts. I don't think I would begin mixing them all of a sudden. And you even wrote your name on it after you made it, so no, this is definitely your potion." Leaning back in his chair he added after a few seconds, "And - if you're thinking about it - there is no way for a student to enter the closet where I keep the potions, so this is not some joke." Silence spread through the classroom, the only sound coming from a few bubbling potions in some cauldrons across the room.

Harrison swallowed silently. Glancing down at his hand in his lap, he gritted his teeth. Somebody had lied. Lied about every single part of his life. If he was not a Muggleborn, as the potion was suggesting, then there was somebody who had lied. He blamed Cassandra - he was not even sure if he could call her his mother anymore. Not with the result of the potion.

Raising his eyes from his lap he stared into serious eyes. Slughorn cooly met his gaze. "It's difficult to believe that you don't know anything about your blood status, Mr. Law. I must apologise for not believing you, but it's hard to swallow." Harrison nodded. It appeared that both of them had difficulties swallowing the result of the vial. "If the potion revealed that you were a half-blood then I wouldn't question you this much, but as you can see the vial's completely blue. If we regard the result of the potion to be true, then you're a Pureblood, Mr. Law."

Harrison's face was blank. It felt a though he was underwater, the words thick and difficult to understand. He was losing breath, drowning with no chance of survival.

Harrison took a deep breath in, realising he had actually held his own breath. As he opened his mouth, water swept in filling his lungs. He was drowning in the darkness of the unknown.

He had always believed he knew everything there was to be known about himself, now it was just a joke - he knew absolutely nothing. Harrison despised the feeling of not knowing something and it was much worse now that it was himself that was the mystery.

Slughorn shifted in his chair and Harrison knew the man was waiting for something, anything that would help them solve the mystery called Harrison Law. "I understand, professor. This-" he gestured for the vial "-is hard for me to accept." He licked his lips, unsure if he wanted to continue. Looking at Slughorn he knew he had no choice, not if he wanted the man off his back. "You see… I don't know who my father is." And there it was - the deep scar across his childhood, the absence of the figure so many of his neighbourhood children had. One of the many things he never wanted to extract from his brain and verbalize. "My mother, she always had many lovers - especially around my birth - so she has never been sure about who my father may be."

It was a small lie, made to protect him. His mother did not have lovers; she had clients. He was not sure if she was especially active around his birth, not even if she was a prostitute at that time, and she had never told him anything that was not a lie about his father.

Cassandra was secretive, even when drunk. Harrison, her son, had no idea where she was born or if he had any grandparents. Everything he knew, he knew because he was old enough to remember it.

He snapped out of his musing when Slughorn leaned forward in his chair, creating an awful creaking sound. "I see… it must've been hard," he stated, though it was clear that the last part was added only to be polite.

Shaking his head he added, "No, my mother has done a wonderful job raising me." He let a small smile slip on his face, hoping his expression would make up for the lack of truth in his words. He was just playing his part, being polite and give the answers Slughorn was expecting.

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, she has clearly raised a very clever and polite so. She must be proud." Harrison's smile stiffened, and he wondered why they were talking about his mother. She was a Muggle. Why would his professor, the head of Slytherin, have any interest in her? "Are you sure your mother is a Muggle?" Slughorn added, revealing the reason for his interest.

"Yes, I am fairly certain she is a Muggle." Harrison answered. Cassandra Law could not be anything else but a Muggle. He refused to believe that she could be magical.

"So - she's no creature either?" Slughorn stared intently at him and Harrison blinked, unsure if he had heard the professor's question right.

"I am sorry - what did you say?"

"It just crossed my mind. The Purity potion doesn't distinguish between the blood of a wizard and a creature, just Muggle blood. So there is a possibility that you have creature blood, which somehow results in the blue colour of the potion." After a second, he added, "Though it's still strange that it's completely blue - especially if your mother's a Muggle. So I thought that she may be a creature."

Harrison swallowed harshly before replying. "No, there is no way my mother can be a creature. She has always been normal and I have never seen any sign that she may be hiding something." It was difficult swallowing the possibility that his mother had some connection to the magical world. He refused to believe she was anything else but a crazy prostitute. After all, she had never showed any kind of ability out of the ordinary - well, what Muggles consider "ordinary." As he stared at the blue vial he knew they would not find an answer from their talking - no, there had to be some other and better potion to check blood purity. "Professor, are there other ways if checking ones blood purity than the potion we used?"

Slughorn's eyebrows furrowed, probably trying to remember something. "Yes, there are other ways of deciding ones blood purity. Though I think the test Gringotts offers is by far the most reliable. It decides both the person's blood purity and shows who their parents are." Slughorn stopped and seemed unsure if he wanted to continue or not, though clearly his own need to say it won over whatever reason he had to keep quiet. "Mr. Law, I know you receive a stipend from the Hogwart's fund for poor wizards, so I believe you won't have enough money to pay for a test, even if you wanted to take it."

"What do you mean? How expensive is it?"

"About 2300 Galleons, more or less. But that was the price, if I remember correctly," Slughorn stated, oblivious to the increasing irritation in the boy sitting in front of him.

Harrison, not for the first time, hated his lack of money. If he had just a little bit more, then he - maybe - would be able to find out about his blood purity and who his parents were. Maybe Cassandra was not his mother after all. He knew he would be able to pay for it in the future - he would get rich from a good job one day - though he hated to wait. He refused to wait so long.

"Professor Slughorn, is there no other way of deciding my blood purity and see if my mother really is my mother?" he asked seriously, if not a bit snappishly.

Slughorn sighed and shook his head. "No, it don't believe so. There is no other way, Mr. Law."

"Is there a way for me to make my own potion, like the one they have in Gringotts?" Harrison said slowly. Slughorn's eyes widened.

Glancing nervously around he replied, "Mr. Law, it's against the law to make potions containing or requiring any kind of blood from a wizard without express permission. If someone gets a hold of your blood then there is no way of knowing what they'll do to you."

Harrison stared disbelievingly at Slughorn. "Professor, you had us use blood in our potion."

Slughorn seemed to relax and nodded silently in reply. "Yes, but I did nothing illegal. I tried for years now to try out a potion requiring blood in my lesson and had sent application after application to the Ministry requesting permission. Every year I was denied, but this year they actually gave me permission to try out the Purity Potion." He was clearly proud of his achievement over the ministry. "So I have permission from the ministry to use the potion."

Harrison nodded quietly. "But still, you used blood in it. Surely the Ministry would not allow a teacher such permission, not if blood can be used against a student." He stared intently at the professor, feeling threatened at the thought.

Slughorn snorted impolitely before answering. "The Purity Potion requires only a drop of blood - as you can remember, nothing more must be added unless the student wants the potion to loose its properties. There is really nothing harmful that can be done with such a small amount of blood, Mr. Law. Even if I - or someone else - wished to use it against a student, the most harmful thing that could possibly be done is small pranks - nothing harmful." He said in a irritatingly teaching manner. He clearly disliked being questioned about this matter - which was funny in a way. He was the head of Slytherin and he disliked being questioned, should he should not be proud that a student of his house was begin cautious and questioning his motives?

"I understand." Really he didn't. "Though is there no other way of solving this puzzle?"

He motioned for the vial. "The only way you can find something, if you don't want to wait till you're older to pay for the test at Gringotts, is to find people who knew you when you were born and ask them, " Slughorn said while glancing down at the vial. "Though the best thing is to wait, grow up, get a job and pay for the test when you have money for it. It's the easiest way, I believe."

Harrison nodded slowly. He had no desire to wait though; he would find a way to get answers early. He had few people who knew him when he was a child, so it could be a problem to find a person to help him. Arren was dead. Cassandra was missing. Cassandra's clients - no, he hated them. Esmeralda… well, she knew Cassandra quite a long time, so he supposed he could go to her.

Harrison pondered over this possibility. He did not want to reveal the magical community to her, so he would only ask her if she knew if Cassandra really was his mother or not. Esmeralda was the only person who could possibly know about his childhood. He had no pictures of himself as a child. Actually when he thought about it, he had never seen any type of picture of him as a baby in his house. Which was weird; surely normal people took some kind of picture of their child at some point in their life.

Snorting quietly to himself, he remembered that Cassandra was far from normal. Hell, for all he knew, she never took any picture of him because 1. She did want to have him in the first place; 2. She did not have enough money; or 3. He was not her child.

Harrison gritted his teeth in irritation, trying to remember if he had some kind of memory of another mother, but he only recalled his life with her. Not that he remembered the first 3 years of his life anyway, but that was normal.

Slughorn coughed, bringing Harrison back from his thoughts. "Even though you can't take the test now, I think you should take it as soon as you have enough money. If the potion is right, which it should be, then you have wizard or creature blood. By taking the test and verifying that you indeed have wizard blood, a lot of positions in the wizarding community will open for you!" Slughorn smiled widely. "Yes, you should do it as soon as possible. After all, it would be horrible for the some professions to lose the possibility of a young genius entering their field of work. I always had a feeling that you weren't a Muggleborn. You were incredibly gifted after all…" Slughorn rambled.

Harrison bit his lip so he would not snap at the professor. It was as though Slughorn believed that only magical children could have a bright mind. Discrimination. Harrison hated it. The magical community refused to see beyond their image of the Muggleborns: weak children who were weak only because of their parents. How incredibly narrow-minded. So what if Muggleborns could not do every kind of magic? It did not make them weak in other branches. Hell, there was no research that proved that Muggleborns were not as strong as Purebloods or half-bloods.

"Of course. I'll take it as soon as possible," he answered quietly.

Slughorn sighed. "Yes, do that," Glancing down at the vial again, he picked it up and dropped it into his pocket. "Well then, I believe we are finished then, are we not? If you don't have anything else on your mind, of course." He seemed hopeful, as though he hoped Harrison would remember something about his past.

"No, I do not, professor." He gave Slughorn a small nod in recognition as he stood up, which the man returned. He made his way to the door before stopping as he laid his hand on the door handle. He glanced back at Slughorn who was gathering some papers.

"Professor."

Slughorn glanced up. "Yes, Mr. Law?"

"I… I don't know if you remember, but last year you told me that dragon heartstring and phoenix feather have a reputation for being suitable with the darker branch - And that Muggleborns never get those cores." He swallowed nervously as he shifted on his feet.

Slughorn was staring intently at him now. "Yes, I remember."

"As I have received a result from the potion which tells us that I am most probably not a Muggleborn, I thought it would be interesting to mention that my wand has a Phoenix feather as a core," he stated slowly.

"That's interesting indeed." The professor replied seriously. "Mr. Law, I can understand if you want to share this new knowledge about your blood, but I believe the best move is to keep it hidden. It'll never become acknowledged before you have the test from Gringotts verifying it," he advised.

Harrison nodded "Yes, of course, professor."

Harrison turned to leave. "I would like to invite you to my club, Mr. Law," he heard Slughorn say. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Your club?" he asked hesitantly, unsure why the professor suddenly wanted to invite him to a club. He had heard about Slughorn having some kind of club, but had never bothered looking further into it.

"Yes! My Slug Club. A club to cultivate a student's talent." His eyes was sparkling. Harrison eyed the man critically. There had to be some kind of underlying reason for the man to invite him; there had to be when Slughorn had chosen the exact time when Harrison's blood had been uncovered to give the invitation. The man may not look like a Slytherin, but Harrison knew the characteristics. Yes, Slughorn had something to gain by getting him to join his club. Though what he would gain was unknown to Harrison.

"Thank you very much for your offer, I will think about it. I do have my studies to think about, so I do not know if I have time for a club."

"Very well. Please contact me if you decide you join. The club needs as many gifted people as possible to hold it going."

Nodding, he opened the door and left the classroom. Closing the door quietly, he breathed out into the cold corridor. Gazing down at his feet, he leaned against the closed door. He felt somewhat empty, but maybe it was because he had closed off all emotions when he had been talking to Slughorn or because he was in shock. Maybe both.

One thing was sure. Someone had told him a big, fat lie about his birth.

Sighing, he began to trudge his way to the common room. Too tired to gather up any anger or aggressive feelings towards Cassandra, who most probably had lied about a lot of things. He was tired, so tired.

* * *

><p>Harrison stared down at the book and swallowed harshly. Glancing over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that he was the only one in the deepest part of the library. He stared intensely at it, still unsure if he really wanted to take the huge step and actually practise some of the spells inside the book. The Dark Arts - Durmstrang 1st Year. It was one of the few book's he had copied from Blishwick a year earlier. He had read through them all, but had yet to try any of the mentioned spells.<p>

Now that he knew he wasn't Muggleborn, he could no longer keep himself away from it. Surely the potion was not mistaken-it was impossible - so nothing would happen to him even if he tried out the darker branches of magic. He had been worried at first because he had been unsure if he could practise Dark Arts at Hogwarts without being caught doing it. Hogwarts was a magical school, and he would not be surprised if there were some wards that detected dark magic.

After a thorough reading of magical laws in Britain, he had found that most Dark Arts spells were frowned upon but not prohibited. Really, the worst thing that could happen if he got caught was that people would frown upon him. They could not punish him legally, not when he had done anything explicitly illegal. However, the three darkest spells - the Unforgivables - were absolutely prohibited. Not that he had any wish of trying them out… yet. He could be sent to Azkaban if he used dark magic to hurt people, but the same rules applied for light magic. Harrison had been delightfully surprised by how few laws there were in the magical world. They had almost none compared to the Muggle one.

Smirking, he opened the book at a random page. He did not have a special spell in mind so he would play a game and decide it by randomly opening a page in the book. Confringo, a spell that causes anything it comes into contact with to explode. While it was interesting, and he certainly wanted to try it out, it was not the best one to do in a school full of children. Sighing he closed the book before opening it again on another page. Nigrum incendio, a spell that creates a black flame from the tip of the wand. Glancing at the illustration, Harrison was pleased to note that it was fully possible to try it out in the school. The flame was very small, almost unnoticeable, and came out of the wands tip making the wand look like a miniature spear. Apparently it was used in close combat, where one opponent would use it to stab the other one, like a Muggle knife. Harrison was unsure if it was useful, but it was an easy-looking spell, so it had to do. Surely nothing would go wrong when it only came out of the tip of the wand.

Once again glancing over his shoulders he scanned the library. He was the only one in there at the moment. Not a surprise though. Iit was only an hour until curfew and it was a Saturday. Bringing his wand out of his pocket he glanced over the hand movements. "Here we go," he whispered quietly to himself, mentally readying for his first dark spell.

"Nigrum Incendio." He was disappointed to see nothing happen. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion he tried again.

"Nigrum Incendio." Nothing, not even a small spark of black fire. Gritting his teeth he tried again, refusing to believe he was incompetent when it came to dark magic. The irritation was raging, and he snarled out in anger, "Nigrum Incendio!"

The flame blasted out of the tip of the wand like a huge sword. It raged out, and he almost bumped it against a bookshelf in surprise. He stared in awe at the sword-like flame bursting from his wand. It was not supposed to be so big. Panicking, he tried to extinguish the flame by waving it the way he usually did when extinguishing the flame from a match. It did not help, and he felt his breathing hitch. It did not matter if it was legal; he did not wish to be caught doing something that was disapproved by the majority of the magical community. To get respect and power people had to like him. No matter how irritating it was, he had to keep a clean image. His dealing with dark magic was not something he wanted to be public.

His emotions were in chaos, and he somehow managed to notice the flame growing even more. Eyes widening, he remembered what he had read in one of his books and desperately wanted to bang his head against the table. Dark magic was fueled by emotions. With spells, there were emotions or some kind of drive, motivation. He had heard that there were an even larger exchange in alchemy, though he had not read much about it. Breathing out he tried to relax. To somehow close his emotions off from the wand, as one of the books had said - whatever that meant. Slowly he was relieved to notice the flame diminishing, until it disappeared completely.

Harrison smirked to himself, satisfied that he had managed to do it without killing anybody. Maybe it did not go perfect, but that was to be expected the first time.

He slammed the book close, deeming his self-study of dark magic finished for the day. He stood up from his chair and was about to reach over the table for his other books when cold, sharp pain shot from his tailbone up his back to the back of his head. Legs failing under his body, he fell down to the floor. Harrison bit his lips when he hit the floor, trying to hold in his painful whimpers. Agony, pure agony. It was as though someone had stabbed a knife straight into his tailbone and dragged it up all the way up to his head.

As fast as the pain had appeared it disappeared again, leaving Harrison in a breathless puddle at the floor. Swallowing harshly, he tried to sit up and was surprised when he could do it without any sort of pain. It was as though it never had happened, if one did not count the pain originating from his fall to the floor. Harrison closed his eyes while dragging a hand through his hair. Confusion was the only feeling swimming around in his body. Utter confusion.

From what he had read in some books concerning the effect dark magic had on Muggleborns, this was not it. No, the effect on Muggleborns when they used dark magic took time to show, and when it manifested, it was fatal. Dark magic was cancerous for Muggleborns: the effect of their use of dark magic could hide for years sometimes, but when it became noticeable it struck fatally. Harrison had never read any kind of effect taking place from the beginning - so this had to be something else.

Furrowing his eyebrows he opened his eyes to stare down at his hands in his lap. As he opened his eyes, his breath hitched and the confusion returned in full force. It was unrealistically clear. Every colour and detail in the library was so incredibly clear that Harrison almost closed his eyes again. While he did not have bad eyesight, never had he seen his surroundings in such light. Was it a reaction form using dark magic? Improved eyesight, even if one did not have bad sight? As his head was working for a plausible cause, he slowly noticed a warm feeling spreading from his tailbone. It was the exact opposite from the earlier agony and he bowed down in pleasure. Mouth open in a small moan he closed his eyes. Though as soon as the feeling surrounded his entire body it disappeared completely, just like the earlier pain.

Harrison was once again a puddle at the floor, though it did not last long this time as he picked himself up from the floor. Leaning against the table he tried to understand what had happened, but without luck. It did not make any sense. If it was a reaction from dark magic it could only be painful, so why did it end with so intense pleasure. Would this happen every time he tried dark magic?

Harrison's eyes widened as he remembered the exact point where the pain and pleasure had originated from. Throwing his transfiguration book out of his bag, he hurriedly found a spell which could configure something into a mirror. Once one of the many books at the table was transfigured into a small mirror, Harrison sat it up against a shelf on height with his hip before turning around.

He glanced around one time to be sure that no one saw him stripping - not that he was stripping, but merely showing his tailbone - just to be on the safe side. Maybe it was better to do it in his room, but he refused to wait, not when he may have found a clue. Swallowing he brought his uniform up so he could see his tailbone in the mirror. He stared with some difficulty over his shoulder into the mirror. His birthmark was dark grey. It had always been a wretched pitch-black colour, much like a tattoo. The differences was not big, but one could easily see that the colour was lighter than it had been earlier. Dropping his uniform down and fixing it, he transfigured the mirror back into a book.

It had changed. The tattoo-like birthmark could not only be a mark from what had happened minutes earlier. Birthmarks did not change colour suddenly like that, especially not in minutes. Harrison knew that it only confirmed that not only was he not a Muggleborn, but also his mother was not Muggle either. Cassandra had a mark at the exact place as Harrison did, at her tailbone. Her mark was only a pitch-black circle and not a symbol like his.

Harrison wanted to believe that her mark was normal, but it was difficult to think that way. Birthmarks did not come in perfectly geometric figures. If his mother was not a Muggle, then what was she? A Squib? It was plausible, but not something he wished to be true. If Harrison could decide, then Cassandra would be a Muggle, just a crazy, drug-abusing Muggle. He did not want her to be special, because then he would have to understand that a lot of what she had told him was a lie. The worst thing was that Cassandra was missing, so he had no chance of finding her so she could answer some of his questions. Not that he wanted her back. He was perfectly fine without her.

He was incredibly lucky, was he not?

* * *

><p>Tom had been sitting alone reading a potions book in the common room for about an hour when Abraxas Malfoy strolled inside together with a few other students. Tom glanced over the students following Malfoy. Maximus Avery and Alphard Black from his year, and Evander Lestrange and Diana Flint from Harrison's year. They were all purebloods, Tom noticed, just the people he needed if he was to get what he wanted in the magical world.<p>

Tom smirked in satisfaction to himself. They would all realise how clever it was to follow him soon. He had everything, and what he did not have at the moment he would get in the future. He would own everything. By owning every 'toy,' he would be able to play with it when he wanted and throw it away when it was no longer of use. Yes, in Tom's own mind, he was nothing less than a god. Tom did not look at himself as the exact same as every other wizard. In his mind, he was a creature far above every being on the earth. Really, it was as simple as that. The biggest reason for his need of power was that if he had enough power, then he would be able to bend the rules he hated so much. Or even better: change them.

Malfoy came to a halt in the middle of the room before scanning it. He glanced over at Tom before making his way over to the boy, who had been keeping an eye on the group while reading. Malfoy strolled gracefully up to him and sat down in a chair beside him. Avery, Black, Lestrange and Flint sat in a couch opposite of Tom. Abraxas leaned forward in his chair, motioning with his finger for Flint to come up to him. Flint stood up from the couch and leaned down to Malfoy. Tom noticed an exchange of whispers before Flint nodded and walked away. He absolutely loved the power Malfoy held. If he managed to get Malfoy, then a lot of people would automatically follow him.

Malfoy stared at Tom who had yet to really look up from his book. "I want to congratulate you, Mr. Riddle."

Tom glanced up from his book, meeting Malfoy's eyes. Closing the book, he nodded to the gathered people. "Congratulate me about what, Mr. Malfoy?" Tom asked politely.

Shifting in his chair Malfoy leaned back. "Well, about your incredible grades. You have just entered our world and already proven yourself to be a very talented wizard," he drawled coldly.

Tom stared critically at the other, unsure if he actually meant what he said. After a quiet moment he nodded back. There was no irony in the blond boy's words. "Thank you very much, but it really is nothing to congratulate me over. I've only done my best since I've entered this world." Tom knew people liked humility and politeness, so he kept to it. He did not like following the unwritten rules of conduct, but if he got what he wanted, then he would gladly do it.

"I think it is incredible that you have done so well, especially since you have lived in the Muggle world until now," Malfoy said carefully, clearly unsure if it was safe to bring the usual views on Muggles into the talk. Tom understood that the Malfoy heir wanted to be careful, especially when he did not know for sure whether Tom was against or for Muggles.

Tom knew what the boy was fishing for and he would gladly give it to him. "Of course it was hard to live in their world. All extraordinary beings get no understanding from them. As soon as something weird happens they all tries to strangle it out." Tom bowed his neck hiding his eyes from the viewers. In their eyes, he would be a boy harbouring hard and angry feelings towards Muggles. Tom loved that people would believe his words when he had a body language that matched. Ah, the wonders of acting.

Malfoy's eyes lit up, and Tom knew he took the bait. "Yes, indeed. The Muggles have such horrible discrimination against everything that is different." The couch people nodded in agreement.

"True. I'm very lucky to have entered this incredible and wonderful world." Tom smiled a small, innocent smile, the best fake one he could muster.

"Muggles… " Malfoy swallowed, leaning forward in his chair. "Muggles are a great sin in this world."

"No kidding," Evander Lestrange said to Avery and Black, who nodded in reply.

Tom nodded in understanding, an understanding he did not have. While Tom agreed that Muggles were a pest, he did not harbour such hard and difficult feelings towards them. Really, he saw no need to do so. Tom did not hate Muggles because he refused to hold such petty feelings against animals. Muggle were animals, nothing more. Tom refused to bring himself so far down as to have any kind of anger towards them. For the time being, he would play along with the childish hatred. He could not understand why they spent so much energy hating them when they could use the energy on just removing the pests. Really, people always had to take the most difficult road.

Malloy was looking in an entirely different direction. He leaned forward to see the source of the blonde boy's interest. It was Harrison, who entered the common room with a stack of books. Tom licked his lips and forced himself to be seated. He would have to let Harrison go this time. After all, he wouldn't be able to tease the aggressive boy. The pain of keeping a polite mask on.

Malfoy swallowed and glanced around the room. Tom noticed his reaction to Harrison. Was it because the green-eyed boy was a Muggleborn? From what he had heard, they had been closer in the first year, so blood purity wasn't the problem. Tom wanted to know. He would have to "ask," or threaten, Harrison for an answer later.

"I am very sorry, but I have an errand I have to do before curfew. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Riddle." Malfoy stood up, nodding to Tom, who nodded back.

"Yes, it was a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy turned to the students in the couch. "I have a letter I need to send to my father."

Lestrange shook his head. "No sweat. Go do your thing." Avery and Black nodded.

Tom stared at the escaping Malfoy heir. He was clearly running from Harrison for some reason. It was irritating that he achieved only a common understanding on Muggles, but he had to be patient. It would take time to capture a Malfoy.

"Sorry about Abraxas. He's been kinda stiff the last months," Lestrange muttered from the couch.

"No, it's all right." He had not noticed anything stiff about the heir. Not more than usual, but he had only been in the same house as him for three months.

Lestrange leaned forward in the couch staring excitedly at Tom. "So… is it true?"

"What is true?" Tom asked.

He licked his lips and glanced over at Avery, who was sitting beside him, seeking some help. "Is it true you can do wandless magic?" he whispered, as though he could not believe what he was asking. Clearly it had been something everyone of them was curious about, because Maximus Avery and Alphard Black also shifted their eyes to him. It felt great to be the center of attention.

"Well, I can do some small spells, but it's nothing big, really."

Black stared at Tom with pure curiosity. "Really?" Tom noticed that the boy was the one with most interest in him, maybe it was a crush he was seeing? It could be judging by the colouring of his cheeks when he looked at him and when their eyes meet. Perfect, thought Tom.

"A bit, not much as I said." Alphard Black was a slim boy, with black, wavy hair. It was quite long, going down to his shoulders and was tied back with a black tie. His eyes was a cold grey, he was in many ways similar to his sister, Walburga Black. Though only in appearance, not in personality. He was much more subdued and silent, though Tom could see the boy's strong eyes. He was most probably the type which found someone to follow till death do they part.

Maximus Avery though did not look impressed. "Prove it."

Tom smirked. He waved his hand over the books at the table in front of them. As soon as he waved his hands over the books they gathered in a neat pile. While it was not incredible, just being able to do a bit of wandless magic seemed to impress normal wizards. Glancing over the Purebloods in the couch, he knew he had impressed them. He had thought about showing them something more impressive, but he could only think about something that would be troublesome. "As I said, it's not much." It was better to let them underestimate him in the beginning.

Avery glanced away from Tom. "At least you can actually do something. You aren't all talk." He had thought Tom had been lying it would seem.

"It is incredible. I can't do anything without my wand," Black said excitedly.

Tom gave them all a small smile. This was easier than he thought. If he could impress them so easily, then he could capture them without any problem. Sighing in satisfaction he glanced over the Pureblood children. Yes, the world was already a step closer to his hands. He was the master, and they were his toys, created only to take care of his needs. Only, they did not know it yet.

**To be continued**


	13. XIII

**Disclaimer: **I am not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. No money is earned from writing this fanfiction.

**Important Warnings:** Explicit language, sadomasochism, disturbing themes, incest(nothing sexual) - yeah, that should be it. You have been warned!

**A/N:** Alright... I'm so sorry for the long time I've used to update this time, though here it is!

Here's some good news! In this chapter, there'll be introduced some new characters, two actually. I worked really hard on deciding who I could use in the story, since I usually want to use characters from J. K. Rowling's universe, even though I have to change the personality of the figure. So what happened is that I've taken one character from her universe, and the other is unfortunately an OC, though I hope it's - I won't spoil the gender of the character - not intolerable. Well, what are you waiting for? I bet you're curious about just who I've used, go ahead, read it!

Many, many thanks to my beta, Hall.1630. :-)

* * *

><p><strong>Some should be tasted, some devoured, but only a few should be chewed and digested thoroughly.<strong>

"Get in, there is no way we'll be found." He whispered lovingly to her, reaching out for her slim wrist. She was as beautiful as ever; her glowing red hair waving down to her shoulders in smooth curls, her bright brown eyes shining with passion. It was a sight Septimus never could get enough of.

Licking his lips their eyes met, she had yet to answer or move from her position in the middle of the dormitory room; the male dorm. She was just staring at him, and he at her.

He was laying down in his excellent bed, leaning up against his elbows. His nakedness was obvious, just a few sheets covering his modesty from her searching eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want us to get caught, Septimus?" She laughed after a while, flinging her arms out as she spun around in a pirouette.

Scarlet hair aflame, the naked girl radiated in the eyes of the boy who intently gazed at her moving figure.

She paused once her balance failed, chest heaving from her vigorous efforts. Laughter reached their ears, and they both glanced curiously towards the door. Septimus smirked as he understood that his roommates were making their way up to their room. Gazing intensely at her, he asked. "What do you wish for?"

Footsteps ascending, voices getting clearer; soon the door would swing open, that was for sure. The young girl tipped at her toes, excitement clear in her eyes. Once they both could hear the steps just outside of the door, she sprung from her spot, tumbling into the sheets as they both seized a curtain each and ripped it closed in a hurry.

The darkness enveloped them, and they both held their breath as the door was opened, students streaming inside.

Septimus glanced mirthfully towards the beauty beside him, a gaze she returned. Shoulders shaking from laughter and mirth, he somehow managed to whisper out a silencing charm. As soon as the spell fell in place, they both broke out in laughter; pressing their hands against their stomachs as a way to retain their giggles.

"I love this; it's absolutely delightful!" She exclaimed, throwing her head back in laughter.

Septimus nodded in humor, tangling his fingers with hers. "What shall we do next then?" Their eyes met, both pursing their lips in concentration.

"Don't know..." She muttered after a while. He smiled in response.

Septimus gripped her wrist, dragging her down, so they both were laying closely together. It was always incredible to be close to her. It was in such situations that he realized just how much she meant to him.

She was his everything. Without her he, as he was today, would not have existed. The redhaired girl was his other half; if it ever were to disappear he would lose sight of the world and go mad, that was for certain.

"Sexta..." He whispered, feeling her heat against his skin.

"Septimus..." She whispered back, snuggling closer to him. They could never be close enough.

Relaxing into the silence, the only thing they heard were their breaths. "When we're together like this, it's almost like we're the only people in the world, don't you think?" he muttered.

"Indeed, an incredible feeling isn't it?" she replied excitedly, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "What about removing the trash in your dorm and become alone for real?" she asked smiling brightly, pearly white teeth shining.

Septimus laughed loudly. "Yeah, that's a wonderful idea." Eyes attaining a twisted light, they both breathed out in excitement over their astonishing idea.

Sexta sat up in the bed, twirling her wand between slim fingers. Her free hand roamed across her naked body, feeling the heat she had attained from Septimus. Soon, two other warm hands joined, and she breathed out in pleasure.

"How do you want to do it?" He murmured into her ears.

Sexta breathed shakily out. "I want to do it brutally..." It came out as a sensual whisper, resulting in a trembling breath from Septimus. "Continue." He ordered.

"I want to butcher them." The cold whisper was flowing through harsh breaths. "Open their throats with my nails, rip out their eyes, tear off their ears, bathe in their blood, drink it, quaff every cell...consume everything in my path." She twittered, wand now forgotten on white sheets as she gripped her hair harshly, eyes staring blurringly into nothingness.

Septimus leaned forward, so his head was leaning on her shoulder, chest against her back. "More," he pleaded.

"Bind one, butcher the other." She continued. "Break every single finger. Every. Single. Bone. Just like that. Shattered." Sexta turned around, and Septimus had to lift his head; brown eyes meeting in arousal.

"Crush it." She swept her hand over his hips, continuing up his chest. "Dissect the chest, scrape off skin, continue cutting off flesh, careful to let the blood run." Hands clutching together. "Chew, bite, gnaw, swallow - coppery tastes, ah - the wonders." She exclaimed, moaning out loud.

Septimus moaned with her, both shivering in pleasure. Breathing relaxedly out, he laid back into the bed, staring tiredly up.

"It would be fun to go through with it, but I don't think it'll be appreciated..." he murmured.

"True, but if we hide the bodies, then there won't be any proof that it was us," she answered, smiling.

"Maybe, but don't you think it'd be a bit suspicious if every student except two disappeared from a dorm? Or one since I'm the only one actually living in this dorm," Septimus asked her nonchalantly, not really minding the idea of killing them and getting caught that much. Really, what was the worst thing that could happen? That they had to go to Azkaban?

Sighing, Sexta shook her head. "Let's wait then, until we've got a way to butcher them without getting caught." He nodded.

"Good idea. After all, I don't think either of us will be satisfied after that, so there's no way we'd survive in prison," he said staring into her eyes.

"Yeah, we'll decay from the need for more crimson liquid between our hands," Sexta whispered, laying relaxedly down beside him.

Septimus ran his finger through her smooth hair, reveling in its texture. "An excellent idea. When the time comes, let's butcher someone important. Like the minister," he proposed after a while.

Sexta stared into his eyes for a long while, searching for something. A small smile spread across her face as she asked, "Why the minister?"

"Well, don't you think he's ugly enough?" he answered, fingers still dancing through her hair. Sexta closed her eyes on contact, loving the pleasurable feeling of slim fingers in her hair.

Eyes closed, and hair spread out like a halo, she looked like an extraterrestrial being. Something out of this world, holding a beauty no one else had, and the best part: she was his.

"Indeed, but mother likes the minister." Sexta muttered quietly, and Septimus lifted an eyebrow in question, even though he knew she had no chance of seeing his gesture with closed eyes.

"Why do you want to please her?"

Shrugging, she glanced up at him through half-closed eyes. "She gave birth to me," she answered. Her hand roamed across his tight, feeling smooth and young skin underneath her hand. "I think she'd rather sleep with him," she muttered after a moment in silence.

Hands ceasing their movement in her hair, he murmured, "Why?"

Sexta shrugged, though Septimus would have nothing of it and swung himself up from his position, grabbing her wrists as he placed himself on his knees above her naked body. Sexta laughed loudly in delight as she tried to wiggle out beneath him.

"Explain," he breathed into her ear, resulting in excited shudders from the girl.

Shaking her head, she denied him. Furrowing his eyebrows in irritation, he tightened his grip on her wrists. Moments of silence went by, where only their eyes were in an intense battle.

Sighing, Sexta shook her head at their silly games as she answered, "Father loves to imagine the minister and mother together."

Nodding in understanding, Septimus carefully lessened his grip on her wrists. Nursing the red marks he had left behind deliberately with his thumb, he muttered, "She does it only to please him."

"She loves him dearly," she said strongly, daring him to disagree.

"She loves his qualities, not him."

Sexta looked offended as she shook him off forcefully, scooting back as far as she could in his bed. Turning her back to him, she whispered, "Same thing, isn't it?"

Septimus licked his lips in frustration over her behaviour, reaching out for her. A pale hand touched her translucent back, slithering around her waist as she was pulled back against his stomach. "No, it's not," he whispered, "I love everything about you." Closing his eyes in comfort, he relaxed into her warm body.

"Our love is different." She agreed after a while, her rigid body slowly relaxing.

Pressing her firmly against him, he murmured, "Yeah, somehow it is." Sexta swept her hands over his intertwined ones at her stomach. "We love each other because we're the same."

Septimus nodded quietly. Pushing his weight to the side, he forced them both to glide into a laying position, closely huddled together. Sexta had the most beloved, but at the same time, peculiar smell. Like petrichor. Septimus worshipped the smell she gave off.

"I love you because you're me," she whispered into the darkness.

Clutching her, he returned her words,"I love you because you're me."

Sexta shifted, rolling over, so she was facing him. "It's different." Her hands fondled his face, and he leaned into the cherishing gestures. "So different."

"Though we can love the way mother can..." she murmured quietly, almost as if she wished he would not hear her words.

"Indeed, though why are you talking about loving the normal way all of a sudden?" Septimus asked. "Did you find someone?"

Her hands froze in their movements over his face and chin; the silence becoming eerie. Their breathing mixed, following the same pattern, and it felt like years had passed before Sexta finally opened her mouth.

"He's a beauty." She whispered.

Staring confusedly at her, he pursed his lips. "A beauty?"

Her hands moved in creative and illustrative gestures between their bodies, holding no purpose but to bring her feeling out into the air. "He's alive, but dead at the same time."

"Now that you have to explain, dearest," he murmured in response.

Sitting up in her excitement, she stared down at her hands. "He's alive in the sense that blood flows through his veins, though death seems to follow him, like a shadow, unwilling to let go!" Sexta exclaimed as she reached out for the darkness as if to capture death in her own mortal hands.

Still not comprehending her words, he shook his head in confusion, "Is he sick?"

"No, he's healthy," She laughed, glancing amusingly at him.

"Then why is death following him?" he asked, annoyed, despising the feeling of not understanding something she had fully comprehended.

Staring into his eyes, she whispered, "Death loves him dearly."

His eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no words managed to escape from his mind. A small smile spread across his face as he understood what she meant. "Ah, I see," he said; no more words were necessary. "You seem to know an awful lot about him. This is not a new affection, is it?"

"No, since 1st year," Sexta clarified.

"Alright, not that old," he concluded for her, grasping the information. After a moment of silent thought, he murmured, "Why haven't you mentioned him to me?"

"I had to be sure he was worthy of your attention," she answered nonchalantly.

Leaning up on his elbows, he stared curiously at her, "Is he?"

"He is." Their hands intertwined, feelings being transferred between them by bridges of intense eye contact.

"Lovely. His name?"

Sexta tightened her grip on his hands, appreciating his now common interest. "Law."

"Law? Oh my, he probably loves to have control," Septimus murmured, mostly to himself. Though, as there was no difference between her and him, at least in their minds, Sexta soon asked, "Because his surname is Law?"

He nodded. "Yeah, laws are there to control, so he probably loves them, don't you think?" In his mind, it made sense; there was nothing to doubt in his logic. She lifted her shoulders in hostility. "I don't know... I hope he hates them. I do."

"We do," he corrected.

Swatting his shoulder, she shook her head at his correction. "No, I do. There is no difference is there? If I do then you do, because you're me."

"Indeed." They had agreed as long as they had lived on that fact. She was him, and he was her. In their minds, there was no big difference.

This thought pattern resulted in their very special understanding of the world and how things around them worked. If Sexta fell in love with a man, then Septimus too would love him. After all, her feelings were the same as his, so without any doubt or thoughts he accepted the fact that they loved, no obsessed, about this Law, a boy he had no face to give.

"He'll be mine," Sexta said loudly, as if the world all stood there; listening to her statement.

Nodding, the obsession burned itself into his mind. "Even if broken, shattered beyond repair, he'll desire me." He replied, fully seeing the 'me' in their words as both he and Sexta fused.

Smiling brightly, she flopped down beside him, gathering the sheets over their bodies. Heat being exchanged, finger tightly grasping each other, they saw nothing else in the world but two people: 'me' and 'Law'.

"I can't wait, brother," Sexta whispered, and Septimus could do nothing else but agree as she - he - whispered into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Harrison breathed out in irritation as he stared down at the book laying innocently on the library table. He wished for nothing else than to see it burn.<p>

After the first attempt at Dark Arts and his reaction to the branch, Harrison had relentlessly searched for an answer in every book he could find concerning effects of the dark arts, which was a lot since the school leader desperately wished to scare children away from the darker branches.

So far nothing had come out of reading book after book except maybe a huge knowledge on the adverse effects of the branch, but what could he possibly use it for?

Sighing in annoyance, he slammed the book closed before rubbing his eyes from the lack of sleep. As he glanced down at his watch, another heavy sigh made its way into the air; it was almost curfew.

As Harrison was about to stand up from his very comfortable chair, he noticed several shuffles and whispers deeper into the library. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he tried to remember if there had been anyone else in the library, but without success. Someone was hiding, he thought.

Unable to deny his sudden spurt of curiosity, he cast a silencing charm over himself before carefully making his way towards the bookcase certain the sounds had come from the other side of the wall-like shelf.

Leaning up against the tightly packed book shelf, he tried to glance through to the other side, though it was far from possible. Sighing, Harrison shook his head at his childish antics. He had outgrown playing "spy" a long time ago.

"Now that we're alone, let's talk, wimp," he heard from the other side. Swallowing, he pressed his ear against the shelf. Maybe he had outgrown spying, but fishing for blackmail, or even new information, was something one never outgrew, he decided after a moment.

The silence passed over the library, so silent that Harrison would have thought he was alone if not for the earlier voice and small nervous shuffles.

"I don't have time to be here if you can't use your fucking mouth, so either you talk or I leave," said the same male voice as earlier, and Harrison could place the voice at once. There was only one person he knew who had such a voice and language, and that was Evander Lestrange, Harrison's earlier bully. Though the boy had not touched him since he had cursed his gang in the first year, it actually seemed as though he had gathered some respect from he foul spoken boy.

Harrison considered leaving for a moment. There were very few people who had given him respect so far, so in his mind, the most moral thing to do was to give it back. Listening to a private conversation was definitely not very respectful.

Pursing his lips at his dilemma, he took a step away from the bookshelf. Harrison thought he better walk away before they began talking again.

Though before he managed to get far, he heard a thin boyish voice, "I... I can't do it." He sounded scared.

Staring at the huge shelf, he decided that he was doing nothing wrong, as it seemed it was not Lestrange who was confessing anything, so it was not disrespectful towards the boy to listen.

Harrison did not know the second one, so there was no respect, he knew of, given from the other person. Problem solved, he thought, satisfied to himself.

"Are you an idiot? There's no question whether you can or can't do it. Just get your ass to it, Black," Lestrange scolded loudly. Harrison wondered why they had not used any silencing charm; surely Lestrange knew such a spell. Or maybe he does not care whether someone hears them, after all it's not his problems they're discussing.

"But I wasn't supposed to follow him in the first place!" Black, as Lestrange had called the light voiced boy, exclaimed. "It's only because Dorea refuses to do as our family says, leaving with that Potter heir, that I've been left with their expectations." The boy was a real whiny child it seemed.

Lestrange scoffed at the boy's answer. "I don't get why they chose you, though. The Black family has much better material than you, don't they?" Harrison listened intently, deeply desiring to know the topic of their conversation. It had to be something else than normal expectations, that was for sure.

Black sniffed after a moment of silence, and even though Harrison could not see his face, he was sure it was self-piteous. "They do, but they want to give the lord someone young, and since Walburga is out of the question for mother, they chose me," he murmured.

Racking his brain, Harrison tried to think about someone who could be called 'the Lord'.

"Welcome to my fantastic world. I've grown up with such wonderful expectations," Lestrange returned ironically.

"But I haven't... I can't do this..." Black returned.

"You're a whiny child, Black. I have no advice you could use for anything beneficial," Lestrange said arrogantly, and Harrison shook his head at the attitude of his classmate.

"...I can't follow Grindelwald. He's too-" The younger boy whispered desperately. Grindelwald. It was the first time Harrison had heard the name.

"Shh, what the hell are you doing?" Lestrange snapped, it seemed as though he cared if someone could hear them say the name. He had to be someone from the darker community, Harrison decided. Or else there were no worry's about saying his name, or at least he assumed so. "You can't say his name here! There's no telling who's listening."

"Sorry," Black whispered so silently Harrison had difficulties hearing what he said. "Lestrange, how can I give my life to someone I've never met, someone I have no respect for?"

"You have no respect for him? I hope you're kidding," was irritatingly snapped back in response.

"No, yes. I respect the idea of him my parents have projected into my mind, but it's nothing more than that. I'd rather follow someone worth it." Harrison could relate, though he would never follow anyone if they were not worthy. Lately, Harrison had begun to believe less and less in the possibility if there existed such a person. He was better on his own anyway. So far people had only lied to him, even his so-called mother.

"Can't disagree, though I'm sure everything will change once you meet him," Lestrange muttered, apparently giving up on scolding the poor boy.

"How could I know?" Black uttered. "What will you do... you know, once they-" He began, but Lestrange cut him off. "Me? Do what my parents expect, I guess, though it'll be years before I'll go anywhere close to the man." After a moment of silent thoughts, he grumbled. "I don't think my mother would let my father send me to Germany before I became a legal adult anyway."

"I envy you..." Black was such a piteous boy.

Snorting at the boy's words, Lestrange laughed. "...I guess your family doesn't understand the word safety. They're all out of their minds."

"No, there's no such thing as safety to the head of our house, only deep rooted pride," Black replied, not denying that his family was far from sane.

"Head of the house - so it's not your parents who want to send you away early?" Lestrange asked completely uninterested.

"No, it's Lord Sirius..."

"Dump the 'Lord', it pisses me off." Lestrange said his irritation rising again.

"Sorry," Black whispered.

Lestrange struck his fist against the shelf, and it seemed as though both Harrison and Black jumped in surprise. "Don't apologize, who are you? A Gryffindor?"

"No, I'm not," he whispered in response, weakly and without any power behind his words, almost as though he believed Lestrange's words.

"Then get yourself together, Black. It's disgracing that someone of your standing acts like a scared puppy," came the harsh statement, before Lestrange huffed and stomped away. Grumbling noises could be heard all the way from the corridor.

Black sniffed to himself one last time, before he too shuffled away, much more silent and subdued.

Harrison sighed, making his way back to his seat, slumping tiredly down on the chair. It was past curfew, but he had no energy to care.

Closing his eyes in fatigue, he almost fell asleep, though the conversation he had overheard was thundering through his mind, creating more and more questions.

"Excuse me?" he heard in the distance, and he tiredly glanced up between his lashes fully expecting a strict teacher to be standing in front of him.

Though things never seemed to go the easy route for him. Glancing over at the boy in front of him, he tiredly understood that it was a student, probably a bit older than Harrison. "Wha-?" he murmured before collecting himself. "Yes, what is it?"

The boy was much taller than Harrison; he had a strong, lean body of someone who had much more physical training than Harrison himself had. He possessed a very boyish handsomeness Harrison knew he never could hold.

He had short burning red hair and light brown eyes; eyes that seemed to drink him up in a very disturbing manner.

Blinking himself out of his sleep, he knew this was not a coincidence. There was no chance, it was after curfew and few people ever went out so late; if they did they did not go the library of all places. "What is it?" He repeated.

The boy smiled widely at him, as he whispered kindly. "May I sit here - I do like to be able to see the sunset, and this table's the only place in the library where I can comfortably see the sun disappear into the horizon." Harrison stared seriously at him, not understanding if he was joking or if he actually was serious. Was he mentally sick? Surely he too could see that the sun had set hours ago.

Not seeing the point in discussing anything with such a disturbing person, he muttered. "Of course, make yourself comfortable." He would leave at once anyway.

"Thank you, Law," he returned, flaring Harrison's paranoia.

"Do I know you?" Harrison asked defensively.

Sitting gracefully down in his chair, he tapped his fingers repeatedly against the wooden table. "No, you don't, but I know exactly who you are."

Swallowing his eyes sharpened. "Very well, and who might you be?"

"Septimus, lovely. Septimus Weasley," Septimus whispered and Harrison glanced around himself. He had everything packed, the only thing he had to do was walk away.

"Pleasure." He murmured though it was clear he did not mean a word of it.

Licking his lips, Septimus nodded. "It is - it's very pleasurable."

They stared intensely at each other, Harrison trying to figure out if Septimus was only acting a certain way to put him off or if he actually had such unpleasant personality.

"I wonder, you wouldn't happen to be able to help me with a potion assignment tomorrow?" Septimus asked.

"I do not think it's clever, you're years above me, are you not?" Harrison had no wish of doing anything with the boy, ever.

"No, we're in the same year." Septimus returned nonchalantly. "So I look older than you? Such a pretty sight you'll be... underneath me." The last part came out as a whisper; Harrison stared annoyingly at Septimus. "Excuse me?"

Laughing, he uttered. "Oh, nothing. As I said, we're in the same year."

"Really? Wonder why I have not seen you before," Harrison said, forcing himself not to move under the other's unusual stare.

"It's no surprise. I'm from Hufflepuff, and I don't leave the common room that much in the free time," Septimus confessed. Somehow Harrison had a difficult time believing that the boy was a Hufflepuff. He was nothing like any other person Harrison had met from the same house. "But if you are a Hufflepuff from my year, then we have Herbology together."

From what Harrison had understood of the wizarding community so far, the Weasley family was a very light line, that only practiced the lighter branches of magic. Though looking at Septimus, it was clear that anyone could be light as it had no connection to being good or mentally healthy.

It was pleasant to see that even the so-called light families had their issues.

"I usually don't show up for such classes. They'll rot my mind, you see," he explained. "And if I do show up, I usually hide behind my twin sister."

"I see..." Harrison murmured. Septimus stared at him, before asking, "Now that we've agreed on my age, will you be able to help me?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Silence spread across the library, cold green eyes meeting aroused brown ones. "You're so wonderful, Law," Septimus breathed out.

Swallowing uncomfortably, he muttered. "Giving me compliments will not help."

"I only say the truth," the other boy clarified. "You should feel thankful," he added after a while, "Thankful for being both of me's obsession."

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion over Septimus's confusing sentence, Harrison gritted his teeth. "...You-" He began, but Septimus cut him off. "Oh, well look at the time! I'll leave you here, beautiful." Standing, he sent a heated stare towards Harrison before storming out of the library. Harrison was left alone in the darkness, confused and wishing never to talk to the boy ever again.

* * *

><p>The weeks had passed silently since his meeting with Septimus in the library, and Harrison tried his best not to think or look for the so-called Hufflepuff. Disappointingly, the boy had not lied and Harrison had found him sitting hidden in the Herbology classroom's corner together with a just as red-haired girl.<p>

Hands intertwined, they both stared back at him. Brown eyes burning into his own being, clutching invisible hands forcibly around his unblemished neck. After that, he had been careful never to look at them again. Something about them screamed immorality, and Harrison had no wish of getting into trouble he had not meant to create.

Glancing out the window, he studied the moving landscape rushing past as the train moved.

After the purity potions result, he had decided that it would be best to pursue his curiosity on his own. Since he did not have enough money for a test of his blood at the moment, he chose to go home to the orphanage for the Christmas holiday. There, in London, he would find Esmeralda and drag every bit of information about him and his mother out of her; he would use force if he had to.

Once he arrived at the busy station in London, he saw no point in first going to the orphanage. If he was lucky then maybe Esmeralda had a room he could use while he was in the city. The orphanage was not somewhere he wanted to be spending his Christmas, though he did not believe that it could be any worse than spending such a day with his mother.

The weather was freezing cold, resulting in icy spots all over the pedestrian area. People were walking huddled together, with scarfs and coats tightly wrapped around their bodies.

The cold wind brushed over his face and Harrison closed his eyes as he felt the warmth attained in the train slowly fade away, spreading coolness over his small body.

Winter days such as this were wonderful. Everyone shared the cold; no one had energy enough to show their extravagant clothes off or look down on someone. On days like this, everyone minded their own business, too taken up on their own coldness to see anyone else.

He was no one unworthy of respect, he was just like every other human being. No whore mother, no hateful clients, everything was perfectly fine.

The walk to Esmeralda was a small one, though the weather made it horribly long as he had no clothes to keep his body warm through the chilly wind.

Once he made it to the café, he sneaked past the prostitutes huddled closely together outside, smoking their pot, entering the excellent heat.

Harrison glanced through the crowd. Not finding the large woman anywhere, he made his way towards her office. Swallowing as he mentally prepared himself for whatever she would answer, he knocked at the office door.

"Yes!" he heard and took it as a command to enter. Entering he noticed that nothing had changed since he had last seen the office. It was still decorated with colorful pictures and huge vases of just as colorful flowers; the office was alive. It had been hard to believe it was winter outside if he had not just escaped the gruesome cold outside.

Esmeralda was standing over a large pot of flowers, moving them around in the water as she changed and added new flowers. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened and a huge smile spread across he face.

"Harrison! What a surprise!" she exclaimed as she came up to him, opening her hands wide as if to give him a crushing hug. Harrison took a small step backwards and she hesitated.

"Oh, of course..." she murmured, reaching for his cold hands instead of going for a hug. Holding them gently in her's, she smiled a warm smile. "It's wonderful to see you again."

Harrison nodded absentmindedly, his mind caught up in just what sort of questions he would ask. "Mrs. Esmeralda, it's wonderful to see you too." He replied politely, not really conscious of the words flowing out of his mouth.

She smiled widely, her intensely red lips strangely visible in her face. "I'm not stupid, you're here for a reason are you not?" she asked.

Harrison stared into her eyes, for the first time aware that Esmeralda was not like the typical ex-prostitutes he had met. She had not cast aside her intellect and opinions, she was still very much a living being and not a shadow as his own mother was. "Yes," he replied.

"Well then, let's not stand here. Do you want some tea?" she asked as she spun round, taking long and wide steps up to her tea supplies.

"Yes, please," Harrison murmured.

Soon the comfortable and somewhat unusual smell of Earl Grey filled the room, lulling only Esmeralda into a relaxed state. Harrison was stiff from the thought of uncovering the truth, or lie for that matter, about his life.

She gave him a wonderfully decorated porcelain cup, and Harrison had to stare in wonder at it for several seconds before he could look away from it and into Esmeralda waiting eyes.

"Mrs. Esmeralda," he began before swallowing down the gathering spit in his mouth, "Due to certain circumstances something very peculiar has been uncovered." He had practiced this speech continuously in the last days, just from pure excitement and nervousness.

Esmeralda nodded as if urging him to continue. "Is Cassandra my biological mother?" he said strongly, staring intensely into Esmeraldas's eyes that widened considerably.

Her previous relaxation fled, leaving an anxious woman behind. Swallowing, she shook her head, though it was not plausible to understand if it was an answer to Harrison's question or to her own internal debate.

After several minutes in silence, she stood up from her chair strolling hurriedly up to a small chest in the corner of the room. Esmeralda began to shuffle through several shelves, ignoring Harrison's questioning stare.

When she finally closed them, she held a small paper in her plump hands, apparently a picture of some kind. She was staring down at it with intense feelings, though just what kind of emotions it was could not be deciphered.

"Mrs. Esmerlada?" Harrison asked, and she turned around to his words. Walking slowly up to his chair, she stopped about a meter from him, staring down at him.

"I always had a feeling you would notice that Cassandra had not always been there for you... " she muttered handing the picture to him.

Harrison received it hesitantly, before glancing down at the old colorless picture.

It was very old and spots of ancient coffee marks could be seen at the edges, though it was clear enough to see the details. A young woman, probably in her 30s, sat comfortably at an antique chair holding a small bundle that could only be a child in her arms. She was staring lovingly down at the child, not looking directly into the camera as most people would have done.

As Harrison stared down at the picture, no understanding hit him, and he was left with a feeling of confusion. Glancing hesitantly up at Esmeralda, he silently asked for an explanation for handing him such a picture.

Esmeralda who had been holding her breath, breathed out nervously. "It's not easy to explain, Harrison..." She said before adding. "But I'll try since you more than anyone has a right to know."

**To be continued!**


	14. XIV

**Disclaimer:** I am not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. No money is earned form writing this.

**A/N:** I didn't like the cliffhanger in the last chapter and if I had a choice I wouldn't have made one, but I had to cut it off somehow since I usually try to keep to a certain length each chapter. My dislike for the cliffhanger is really why there is such a fast update this time, hope you're satisfied! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter; I really appreciate that you use some of your time to leave a review. (⁎˃ᆺ˂) Again, many thanks to my incredible beta, Hall.1630.

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><p><strong>Something wicked this way comes - William Shakespeare<strong>

"A right to know what, exactly?" Harrison asked hesitantly.

Esmeralda smiled sadly, staring down at him as though he was a poor and sad child, abandoned by his beloved ones. Though he was, was he not? Abandoned by Arren Wilmer, by Cassandra Law, by the father he never knew. Maybe he was too dirty and weird to be loved. Harrison shook his head, denying such thoughts from manifesting further in his mind.

"Everything your mother was never able to tell you..." She whispered, eyes attaining a dreamy look. Harrison's eyes widened and he stood up from his chair. "My mother? So Cassandra is my mother?"

Esmeralda only smiled as she made herself comfortable in a chair, leaning relaxedly back as she sighed. "It's so many years ago, but I can still remember the freezing weather that morning..."

* * *

><p><em>The snow had continuously been falling ever since New Years Eve, folding London in freezing white sheets of both snow and ice. The inhabitants mostly kept themselves inside if they had a choice, cuddling together before chimneys or under thick blankets.<em>

_It was on such a day that Elizabeth, a young woman in her 30s, had to hurry through the abandoned, snow filled backstreets towards the grocery store. She had a thick, warm scarf around her neck and a huge decorated coat holding her warmth, which made the long trip through freezing weather nothing other than an adventure._

_She hurried around the corner as she glanced down at her shopping list and was fully unprepared by the figure sitting pressed up against the wall. Elizabeth squawked in surprise as she tumbled down into the snow._

_She brushed the melting snow off her, before noticing that her list was gone, invisible in the white street. Shaking her head in denial at her lack of luck, she began to shakily brush her bare hands through the snow._

_As she searched, she hesitantly glanced up at the source of her fall. It had to be one of the homeless men._

_Elizabeth inhaled shakily; it was a woman. Situated closely up against the wall sat the most enthralling woman she had ever seen. Long, thick and beautifully curled hair framed a pale face, cheeks red from the cold. Their eyes met, and Elizabeth stared into a consuming darkness. Swallowing, she felt worry blossom in her chest. She would never have cared if it was an old man, but a young woman alone in the cold was horrible to see._

_Elizabeth stood slowly up brushing the snow off her coat. "Um... Do you want anything to eat?" There was nothing else Elizabeth could do for the woman, nothing but to give her something to eat._

_She mumbled something, and Elizabeth leaned closer. "What?" Elizabeth asked, but the only reply was more mumbling; it did not sound like English._

_"I cannot help you if you do not answer me..." Elizabeth said glancing over her shoulder in hope of help, though the streets were abandoned. The woman shook her head in denial, not for Elizabeth's words but something else. Tears began to stream down her face, and her head fell down, as if staring at something._

_Elizabeth followed her sight before her hand went up to her mouth. "Oh my." Elizabeth mumbled in shock. She was pregnant, fully bloated and cradling her belly in her hands._

_Staring worriedly at the poor woman, Elizabeth felt conflicted. She had never done more than to give the homeless some food, more was difficult to give, but as she stared down at the freezing woman she knew she could not walk away alone._

_"Here, let me help you..." Elizabeth said kindly, helping the woman up. Black eyes stared into her's, and Elizabeth smiled nervously. "I have a guestroom you can use for a few days... until you have found somewhere to live." Elizabeth hoped she did not sound suspicious; after all, who in their right mind invited a homeless person into their home?_

_"Dankeschön," she mumbled, and Elizabeth stared openly at her. "You're German?" Elizabeth asked, but no answer was given._

_Sighing, Elizabeth began to guide the surprisingly warm woman towards her house, the shopping long forgotten._

_They finally arrived at Elizabeth's huge house, shaking from cold, but the other woman, who probably had been outside for hours, did not seem affected by the horrible weather._

_The door was thrown open, and the housekeeper ran outside to meet them. "Mrs. Clayworth! What are you doing outside?" The old housekeeper, Mary, stared bewilderedly at the lady of the house. Elizabeth smiled shakily. "You are too old to shop in this weather, Mary. I thought I could get it for you... so I sneaked out as you were making dinner. "_

_Mary stared angrily at her. "No, no, no - you must not go out in this weather, what would Mr. Clayworth say if you caught a cold?" As soon as Mary was finished scolding her, she glanced at the woman Elizabeth was holding tightly against her. "And who is this?"_

_"She does not appear to have a home-"_

_"That does not mean it's proper to bring her home, Mrs. Clayworth, she is not a cat," Mary said strictly._

_Elizabeth shook her head before quietly adding, "She's pregnant..." Staring into the old woman's grey eyes, she pleaded with Mary to let the woman inside. Though Elizabeth really did not have to do so as she was the lady of the house and could do almost everything she wished to._

_"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear - get her inside," Mary stressed. "How old is she? How far is she into her pregnancy? What's her name? She must be freezing, is she healthy?" the old maid rambled, helping them both inside searching Elizabeth's companion for anything unusual._

_"Well, the thing is I do not think she speaks English at all..." Elizabeth replied as Mary helped the woman to take off the huge black blanket covering her. Elizabeth had seen many poor and homeless people throughout her life; they all had thin and old clothes, though the woman she had brought into her home had not the type of clothes she associated with the homeless._

_A long, simple black dress, that had to be the finest silk, flowed down an unearthly body. It was so plain, but yet so beautiful that both Elizabeth and Mary stared openly at her._

_Swallowing, Elizabeth nibbled her lips. "You do not have a home, right?" Elizabeth asked. How was it possible for such a woman to be homeless? The only answer she received was a deep, painful stare, self-loathing and piteous. It was so raw with emotions and so clear, that Elizabeth became uncertain if she was looking into the eyes of a wounded animal or a human being._

_Coughing, Elizabeth glanced away. "Very well, Mary. Ready a room for her." And it was done without further talking. Not one of them knew how to react or act towards such a mysterious creature as the one they had brought into their home._

_The night went along quietly after that. The room was readied, but her homeless guest refused to leave Elizabeth's side. When her husband returned from his long day of work and they placed themselves in the usual corner of the library for their daily time together, even then the woman sat silently beside them - almost as if she was listening to their conversation. Mr. Clayworth who was such a pleasant man, believed she was just lonely and let be._

* * *

><p><em>When the morning came Elizabeth curiously made her way towards the room she had given to her guest, desiring to be the one to wake her up.<em>

_Knocking at the door, Elizabeth waited her usual ten seconds before opening. At once, she stared into pitch-black eyes. "Good morning," Elizabeth said pleasantly._

_The other smiled weakly before muttering, "Good morning to you too, Mrs. Clayworth." Elizabeth thought her jaw would pop off her mouth from surprise. "You can talk?" Elizabeth asked shockingly._

_The other laughed loudly. "Of course, My Lady."_

_"But, yesterday you never answered, and you spoke German!"_

_"Well, I can't learn a language in just a few minutes; hours are required," she replied pleasantly, slipping out of her bed unashamed of her naked body. Elizabeth glanced away, embarrassed, to her own shame. Elizabeth had been a prostitute for years, but after marrying she had lost every ability of seducement. Not that Mr. Claywoth cared; he thought her wonderful in bed._

_"What are you?" Elizabeth whispered after a while. "No human being can learn a language in hours."_

_"Mrs. Clayworth, a woman of your standing has surely understood that everything is not always as it seems," she whispered, answering no questions, just generating more._

_"I refuse to believe that you could not speak a word of English yesterday!" Elizabeth exclaimed angrily._

_"Of course, if it is easier for your sanity, then yes, I could speak English yesterday," she said arrogantly, before quieting. "Now, I have a request."_

_Elizabeth looked shockingly at the woman. She was clearly not very stable. "What?" Elizabeth answered._

_"I would like something, anything, that can rid me of this horrible creature," she murmured poisonously as she stared down at her bloated belly. Elizabeth's eyes widened at the other's words. Such horrible and sinful thoughts. Shaking her head, Elizabeth stared piteously at the other woman. "Why would you wish for such a thing?"_

_"Why would I not?" she snapped. "This - this monster should never be allowed to exist!" She shrieked as she sat weakly down at the floor, shaking her head. "I only wanted to give him what he wished for... then, then this horrible creature came and destroyed everything for me..." She was openly crying, the earlier collectedness gone. "Now, he has thrown me away; even though I only did what any woman would have done."_

_Elizabeth could only stare as the other's emotions went up and down, like the tide. It was horrible that she would not want the life growing inside of her; Elizabeth could not relate. Then an idea flew through her mind. If she played it right, she would get the thing she had always wanted, but never could get. "Listen... If you're really set on getting rid of the baby; then give it to me." Elizabeth swallowed and then continued. "Then you do not need to do anything to get rid off it, and I can get what I have always wished for, a child."_

_Elizabeth glanced up to met the other woman's troubled eyes. "No, no, no, no, no, no." Shaking her head continuously, black hair flew back and forth. "This is a creature that has broken every law, it must never be allowed to live. It is not of this earth; never has anything similar been conceived, and, therefore, never must it be allowed to freely roam this world."_

_Their eyes were in an intense battle. "I will keep it away from you if it is what you wish-" Elizabeth began but was cut off._

_"You don't understand, wench, it's horrible and vile!" Her eyes were wild and untamed._

_"It is innocent! If it were just in the beginning of your pregnancy, I would have kept quiet, but... look at it. It is probably not long until it has to be born. Please do not do this..." Elizabeth rambled._

_"It's the devil himself..." the other replied weakly, ashamed. "I... It... I hate it," she cried._

_"Then give it to me!" Elizabeth yelled, refusing to back down._

_"No!"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Why would you even want this thing?" she asked and they both quieted down, staring intently at each other._

_"Because you want to dispose of something so small and so innocent, something my body never can give me..." Elizabeth murmured quietly._

_She looked thoughtfully at Elizabeth; it appeared as though she had been able to relax after their moment in silence. "If..." She began before swallowing harshly. "I was never supposed to be able to bear a child, but somehow this happened - I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared!" she murmured, head falling back. "It'll probably kill me at birth, it'll eat me from the inside, it'll look like a monster - I don't want it! Jeg hater dette forferdelige barn!" She screamed and Elizabeth stared confusedly at her. The last part had not been comprehensible - more German?_

_Choosing to let it be, Elizabeth shook her head. "This is wrong."_

_The woman was laying down at the floor shaking and hiccupping from her tears. "Ugh... huhhh... I... I only wanted to please him." She whimpered and Elizabeth walked carefully up to her, sinking down at the floor beside her. "I know, I know," Elizabeth said soothingly, even though she had no idea what the other was talking about._

_"What should I do to get him back?" she whispered depressingly, staring up at Elizabeth through tearful eyes. "I... Give it to me, I'm sure he will be happy if you do that," Elizabeth answered gently, a small and kind smile slipping on her face. The woman in front of her was so far from stable in her emotions that maybe, if Elizabeth was lucky, then she could use it against her. Low, yes, but Elizabeth refused to let the woman harm the soon to be born child. If she did not want it, how wrong could it possibly be to give it to someone who desperately wished for a child?!_

_Her eyes attained a hopeful light. "Really, you think Wichard will forgive me?"_

_"Yes, I'm sure," Elizabeth replied forcefully; she had never been a good liar._

_"He will forgive me! He will!" she exclaimed happily, once again having an unhealthy change in emotions. Elizabeth nodded silently. "Take it, I'll give it to you! Though promise me; I don't want to see it, such a vile creature, get it away from me as soon as it's born. Do you understand, bitch?" she snapped with anger building up in her eyes._

_"Of course, of course." Elizabeth replied hurriedly, feeling threatened by the unpredictable woman._

_"Very well, Mrs. Clayworth," was all she got as the other stood gracefully up before strolling towards the changing room connected to the bedroom. When the door slammed close, Elizabeth breathed nervously out. The faster the labour began, the better; Elizabeth had no desire to be in the crazy woman's presence longer than necessary._

* * *

><p><em>The labour had, fortunately, begun only a week after Elizabeth had found Cassandra, as she had introduced herself.<em>

_Though Elizabeth knew that the woman's birthname was not Cassandra. This belief came from the day of their name exchange - or the day Elizabeth asked the other of her name. She had asked if 'Cassandra' was indeed a name from the Greek word Kassandra that meant 'shining upon man'. Elizabeth had answered, after glancing through the dictionary, that indeed it had such a meaning - and what about it?_

_"Well, I believe that it's a fitting name, so if the thing-" the child, "-ever asks about its mother's name, that is my name," she had answered happily; refusing Elizabeth to question her any further by ignoring every word Elizabeth uttered._

_Back to the labour, it had begun in the middle of the night, at 12 o'clock sharp between the 2nd and 3rd of February. Cassandra, as she annoyingly had demanded to be called, had screamed at the sight of the time. "Oh, the pain, the pain - it was such a horrible creature's creation after all!" she had yelled, gripping her hair as tears poured out of her eyes. "It may be his seed, but no! Oh no! It's not his creation!" and other incoherent and just as incomprehensible screams and mumbles._

_When the child was finally born and in Elizabeth's arms, everything was pure silence. Cassandra had passed out from fatigue as the child was so silent. Not a sound, not even a small whimper, had been heard from it throughout it all._

_Elizabeth stared down at the child lovingly; she might not have given birth to it, him, but she would give him the love his mother refused to give. A small head full of black mopped hair - oh, so much smooth hair it was for a newborn child - and penetrating green eyes._

_"Har..." Elizabeth heard and she straightened up. Carefully giving the newborn child to Mary, she told her to leave the room; Elizabeth would honour Cassandra's request to never see him. Elizabeth sat down at a chair beside the bed where the tired woman layed. "What is it, Cassandra?" She asked pleasantly._

_"His name..." Cassandra muttered bitterly. "I promised that man... promised him that the child's name had to be Harrison..." She inhaled deeply before small laughs escaped her mouth. "I don't know why I even bother to keep his promise. It's his fault that Wichard doesn't want me anymore." It was only mumbled, and soon Cassandra's eyes slipped closed, her body relaxing into the sweat covered bed._

_Elizabeth had to send Mary inside to clean it; she may disagree with the Cassandra's ideas, but she would not let her be uncomfortable._

_Elizabeth hesitated as she was about to walk out, glancing back at the slumbering woman. She had forgotten to ask for a surname - but since the child, Harrison, was now hers, was it not proper to give him her surname?_

_"Harrison Clayworth." Elizabeth murmured quietly to herself; it was perfect._

* * *

><p><em>And just like that, the Clayworths had a child in their house. A small, unusually quiet child, who they both came to love dearly.<em>

_Cassandra had disappeared as soon as she was healthy enough after Harrison's birth, never saying how Elizabeth could contact her if she desired to do so. Not that Elizabeth ever wished for such a thing._

_The years went by and before the two doting parents knew it, their beautiful son had his 2nd birthday. They had both known at some level, that such happy times would not continue forever._

_It all changed on a comfortable and warm evening in the midst of June. The sun was lighting up every single leaf in the trees and the Clayworth family was in such tranquility as Harrison played with his colorful toys and his parents joyfully drank their afternoon tea._

_Not before Elizabeth had managed to think of their wonderful time together, desperate and hurried knocks could be heard from the front door._

_Mr. Clayworth glanced up from his newspaper, but Elizabeth shook her head. "I will see who it is for a change," she said smilingly as she went to pick up Harrison; she did love to show him off. After all, he was such a beautiful child. Mr. Clayworth nodded, before returning to his newspaper, eyebrows furrowing in concentration._

_Mary had taken on holiday days earlier, so it left much more to be done for the young couple, though Elizabeth did not mind at all. As she slowly made her way towards the front door, she heard the knocking continuing. "Yes! I am coming," Elizabeth yelled, her empty hand reaching out for the doorknob. A few centimeters before she touched it, she hesitated. She stared curiously down at her own hand, as if it had acted on its own, before grasping the knob. Surely the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach came from the enormous amount of cookies she had eaten._

_As the door opened, her pleasant smile fell. "Cassandra?" Elizabeth choked, staring bewilderedly at the other woman, who looked much wilder than the last time Elizabeth had seen her._

_"What do you want?" Elizabeth whispered, clutching Harrison tightly against her chest._

_"I've come to pick up that," Cassandra replied, pointing towards the small child._

_"No..." Elizabeth said weakly. "You gave him to me, remember?"_

_"I've never given you anything! I need him now!" Cassandra moved forwards harshly ripping Harrison out of Elizabeth's fumbling and scared hands. "No!" Elizabeth cried in shock, reaching out towards Harrison who's small hands were reaching back._

_Cassandra turned around, walking away. Elizabeth stumbled out, barefoot, scraping her toes as she clumsily and somewhat unbelievingly ran out onto the street after Cassandra. "Wait, Harrison!" she screamed._

_Cassandra glanced over her shoulder, black eyes cutting into the other woman's skin. "You can't do anything. If you dare bring this to the police, I'll dispose of this creature," Cassandra threatened, turning around to walk away._

_Elizabeth shook her head in denial, taking small steps after the horrible creature that had stolen her child. Her long dress was caught under her toes and she tumbled down, hitting her skin harshly against the stone. With blurred eyes, she stared after Harrison, hands reaching towards where she had believed Cassandra had gone._

_People were gathering around her either in curiosity or to help, but she ignored them. Tears were streaming down her face and she leaned down, clutching her dress tightly. Her child, her beloved Harrison._

_"Elizabeth!" She heard her husband's voice, but she cried on. Strong, warm and firm hands took a gentle grip around her body, pulling her up on her feet._

_She stared into his brown, gentle eyes and saw her own reflection in them. Gripping him tightly, she cried into his shirt; in emotional distress over her inability to get her child back._

_Though the time went by, and they both had to live with the emptiness Harrison had left. Elizabeth had refused her husband to go to the police, not desiring to anger the unstable thief in any way. She had seen Cassandra, she knew what she was capable of; therefore, she would, in her own way, gain a way to see her lost child, if only for a minute._

_It was this thought that created Esmeralda, a woman who had used some of her money to create a safe-heaven for prostitutes. Or so was the thought. Few knew that it was only made to coax a certain woman and her child into its den so that Esmeralda could see the green eyed child for a few seconds._

_When she was alone in her office, she often stared at the old and only picture of her and her lovely child - though somewhat bitterly._  
><em>Unknown to even herself, she had come to love the child in her memories and somewhat despite the child that had grown up under Cassandra's caring hand. In her mind, they almost seemed like two different children. Harrison Clayworth, her child, and Harrison Law, Cassandra's child.<em>

_Throughout years, Esmeralda played the doting keeper of the café, hiding her real intentions behind a pleasant mask. Cassandra, who had been consumed by her own mind, had never connected Esmeralda to Elizabeth._

* * *

><p>Harrison stared blankly at Esmeralda. "And how do you explain how a mother who never wanted me in the first place, came and stole me? It does not make sense," he said, gripping his troubled feelings tightly inside his chest.<p>

Esmeralda, who had received a darker and darker look throughout her story, shook her head. "The reason for her doings was unbelievable for me at the time, but after understanding her circumstances at the time, it's very understandable if one tries to look at it from your mother's eyes..." she whispered. It was hard to believe how Cassandra had justified her theft. Swallowing, Esmeralda continued, "She had been homeless for a long time, and when she finally found a place cheap enough to rent, it was meant only for mothers struggling with a child, something she had given away to another person." She stood up, walking over to the pot of flowers at her desk. "She was desperate - don't blame her. Cassandra saw things in a very twisted and unstable way, so her doings were correct in her mind."

"That does not-" Harrison began, but Esmeralda cut him off. "No, it doesn't justify it. But it doesn't matter anymore, it's over 10 years ago. Nothing we say now will ever change the fact that both me and Cassandra abandoned you. I, because I refused to get help because of my own paranoia and stubbornness. Cassandra, since she cannot see the missing pieces in her own mind."

Their eyes met and Esmeralda stared piteously down at him. "You've been unlucky, poor child." A sudden empty look swept across her eyes as she looked at the colorful flowers. "I'm aware that neither you nor Cassandra is of my kind, especially you. The devil's child as she called you." Inhaling she continued. "I'm not aware of the circumstances that brought you into this world, but I refuse to believe that you're a monster or the devil's child, and even if you are, surely there is a reason behind your birth."

His eyes were swimming in anger both from the feeling of abandonment by every single human being and his own lack of knowledge. Esmeralda shook her head, turning her back to him. "Please leave..." she whispered brokenly. "It pains me to see what she's brought you up to be." It was almost impossible to hear, but it managed to reach Harrison's ears - painfully, and cutting.

He shot up from his chair, gripping his bag and walking hurriedly out her office door. She too, it seemed, had given up on him. He was not worth respecting, was that it? Not a child anyone would love. Harrison bit his lips as he refused to let tears fall from his blank eyes.

It hurt more than he had expected; the knowledge that no one would love him.

Esmeralda stared tiredly after him, pursing her lips. As she had relived her past, she had realized that her pure child had died years ago. The only thing remaining was a dirty creature she was unable to understand.

Elizabeth Clayworth would never realize just how similar her thoughts were to Cassandra Law's.

* * *

><p>Harrison inhaled shakily. "Fucking whore, you foul, revolting, demented slag," he whispered angrily, gripping his hair tightly. His stomach was on fire, burning from anger; oh, how he wanted to pull out his mother's eyes. Maybe with a fork. It would at least evaporate some of his fury.<p>

He had all but run away from Esmeralda when she had shared her chilling thoughts with him. It had been a clever choice to leave the woman's office. If he had not, then her beautiful carpet would have been stained with crimson liquid before long.

"Control, control," he whispered to himself, but the anger refused to back down. His breath was coming out in short gasps, and Harrison looked frantically around the room in search of something, anything, to destroy.

His eyes fell upon his wand and he itched to grip it forcefully into his hand before snapping out any and every dark spell he knew. Though, there was a tracer on it so it was out of the question.

Wandless? Harrison was not particularly skilled at it, but at the moment he would do about anything to relieve some of the anger. Standing up, he concentrated on the fury, the bubbling anger in his chest and stomach. Throwing his head backwards, his eyes swam with emotions. When the anger was at its peak, he glanced over at Tom's bed; a perfect reinforcement for his bubbling emotions.

It exploded out of his chest when he could no longer contain it, sweeping over the room and every living organism withered and crumbled. The flowers in the window perished to dust, and Tom's unfortunate bed, that had been his intended object to destroy, grayed and slowly began to vaporize before Harrison's eyes. The bricks in the walls shuddered uneasily, and Harrison himself glanced nervously towards the wall. He had no desire to die from a brick in his head. Unknowingly for him, the shadow that had swept out of him and into his and Tom's room continued out of the cracks and into the corridors. There it consumed every plant while wooden benches weakened considerably. When it had passed, Wool's orphanage was a grey and haunting place. Fortunately, it had no fatal effect on human beings but a sudden nose bleed that only lasted a few minutes.

Harrison stretched his arms, relaxing after the use of magical power. He slumped down into his bed, closing his eyes in relaxation. Sleep almost overcame him, the soothing feeling of being the only living being inside his room weirdly comforted him. It had been somewhat disappointing to hear that Cassandra was indeed his biological mother; Harrison had wished it had been someone else.

The good thing was that now he knew one thing for certain. Cassandra Law was his mother, and she was not a Muggle; though that left the question, what was she then? Harrison refused to believe she was a witch, and the knowledge that Cassandra could learn a new language in a day only made him more certain that she had to be some magical creature. Surely he could look it up in a book about creatures, could he not?

If he could find the man Cassandra meant she had betrayed, Witchard, then maybe he could get some answers. Though he could be anywhere, it was not certain that he was in Germany just because his mother had spoken german the first time Esmeralda had met her. Massaging his temples, he sighed heavily; it was no use thinking about it when he missed some crucial information. It would be better to study what he already knew and try to find the missing pieces.

Closing his eyes, he tried to let his mind rest. Silence swept across the room, the only sound his own breath. Inhaling. Exhaling. Inhaling.

**"Staff room, 18.13, 27.12.38."**

Harrison shot up from his bed, staring bewilderingly around his room for the source of the voice. There was absolutely no one who could have said it. Had he whispered it to himself? No, he had not. Swallowing in discomfort, he once again let his eyes sweep over the grey room. No, no one.

Staff room, 18.13, 27.12.1938; it could be any staff room, though the date made Harrison's stomach turn uncomfortably. It was still 7 days until the 27th of December, 1938.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon. How was your Christmas holiday, Harrison." Minerva muttered as she sat down beside Harrison, who moved his large pile of books so she could get some space. "Good, how about you?" he answered, closing the book he had been reading.<p>

"It was survivable," she said, glancing somewhat solemnly across the library. "Though the school year could have begun in a better way, don't you think?" she murmured, glancing into Harrison's eyes.

They had agreed to meet the first day after the holiday to go through their homework together before handing it to the teachers. It had been her idea in the first place, so it confused Harrison that she was so unenthusiastic about their meeting. Harrison tilted his head, staring confusedly at her. "What do you mean?"

Minerva's eyes widened. "You don't know?" she whispered unbelievably. "I though every student's parents received a letter explaining it..."

Harrison lifted an eyebrow at her words and Minerva pursed her lips in embarrassment. "Of course, that's right. I am sorry, Harrison," she said after a while. He did not have parents, at least not at the moment.

"It is alright. What has happened?" he asked. Minerva nodded in reply. "Professor Binns passed away in his sleep some days before New Years Eve."

Leaning back in his chair, he glanced uninterested around the empty library. "How horrible," he muttered, though he had never really had anything to do with Cuthbert Binns, so no terrible sadness overcame him.

"Indeed, a tragic event. I really liked his classes," Minerva sighed; she had probably been the only one.

"So who's the new teacher?" Harrison asked, and received a small smile in return. "He may be dead, but his ghost still remains in the castle. I have heard that he will continue to teach us."

"Then why are you saddened by his death? He is still here," he asked, now interested.

Minerva shook her head. "Shame on you, have some emotions; the poor man is now a ghost. A ghost is not the same as a living being. They lack certain qualities," she scolded him.

"Poor man, poor man," he answered, just to give her what she wanted. She slapped him scoldingly on his shoulder. "So, he died in his sleep, that's good right?" he asked, trying to go with her flow, thinking of other people's wellbeing.

"Yes, in the staff room," she replied turning to her books, and, as a result, not seeing Harrison's eyes widening considerably.

"What did you say?"

"He past away in his sleep," Minerva murmured, fully concentrating at the task before her.

"No, before..." Harrison asked hurriedly, almost as if scared. Minerva glanced uncertainly at him. "What is it?"

"Just answer my question." His eyes were wide and blank. Minerva furrowed her eyebrows before replying, "He past away in his sleep in the staff room."

Harrison swallowed harshly. "When?"

She was staring confusedly at him now, not understanding his reason for asking such questions. "I think it was the 27th, why?" she said but received no answer as Harrisons suddenly shot up from his chair.

"What is-"

"Sorry, something came up. I have to go," he muttered before stumbling out of the library, leaving a very bewildered Minerva behind.

Strolling down the busy corridors, he tried to breathe normally. He had somehow managed to hear the location, most probably time and the date of someone's death before it even happened.

Even though it was embarrassing to admit, he felt scared of this thought. So much so, he tried to tell himself he had not heard it, and that it all was something he had made up in his own mind. Though it was still there, haunting him; a memory refusing to disappear.

Staff room, 18.13, 27.12.1938.

**To be continued!**


	15. XV

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and I am not J. K. Rowling.

**A/N:** I apologise for the long time I've used to update. I've had a huge writer's block, so it took frustratingly long to write this chapter. But here it is! Enjoy! ;D

* * *

><p><strong><em>In the madness, you have to find calm. - Lupita Nyong'o<em>**

Harrison turned restlessly around in his bed, trying and failing to invite sleep into his mind. He was tired, utterly dead to the world but he could not fall asleep. How could he when an ominous being haunted him. A creature he could not see, feel or smell. It was only whispers, small and horrifying, that were constantly muttered into his ears. He would go insane if he did not find a way to turn it off.

**_"Northwest of Ireland, 03.09.1939, 177."_**

Harrison bit his lips in frustration as he pulled his pillow over his head. Hopefully it would muffle the voice. "Shut up." He mumbled.

**_"Hiroshima, 06.08.1945, 135 0-"_** Harrison shot up from his bed. "Be quiet!" He shouted and was pleasantly surprised that it, whatever it was, had quieted down. Now the only sound he could hear was the constant, incoherent whispers that had been bothering him the last days. The noise reminded Harrison of the time he had stood beneath a beehive. He could hear the buzzing noise, but could not decipher any words from it.

Staring irritatingly into the air, he gritted his teeth. It was messing with his head. Not only the voice but also the knowledge that whatever it said was a prediction for someone's death. He still had a hard time accepting that it really was a prediction, so most of the time he tried to ignore the words whispered into his ears. Though he had yet to succeed, as the creature seemed to know when to raise its voice. Harrison wished he could see it, so he could find a way to make it suffer.

Harrison had no desire to know when someone died. It was irritating and unnecessary as there was nothing to gain from such knowledge. Some would maybe have tried to use the predictions for their gain, and while Harrison could see the profit it was out of the question. At least at the moment.

Snorting quietly to himself he laid relatedly back into the smooth bed. And why would he use energy to share these predictions? To save people? It would probably not be profitable to him in the end.

Every being he had known so far had rejected him, so he would deny them every opportunity to use him without returning anything. To survive he had to think only of himself. That much he had learned after his last visit with Esmeralda.

She along with every other being that he had known had betrayed him. Esmeralda had used him to see a child she had lost and when she finally realized that he was not what she deeply had wished to see, she had rejected his existence. He had been a doll, used to satisfy her need to fill the void in her heart. Harrison loathed her for that.

Though the worst thing about this whole affair was that he had liked her. He had trusted her. She had been an emotionally stable person in his crazy life, or so he had thought, and he had respected her. It only made her betrayal hurt even more.

"Fucking inexcusable…" he murmured, and as he did he heard a strongly whispered prediction float into the air. He secretly hoped it was her's.

His eyes were moist, and he was silently biting his lip. It hurt. It hurt to feel betrayed, to feel abandoned. He never thought it would be so painful, bringing him down to his knees. Harrison glared up into the darkness. He refused to be brought down by feelings; they were not even a real problem. All he had to do was to lock them away. If he could not feel then this would never happen.

Feelings were unnecessary. He, Harrison, would banish them from his own being. Surely, then every problem would be solved. And to be certain that he never would feel such feelings again, he would abandon his own need to be or feel loved, wanted, accepted. He would forget his childhood dream of a loving mother, father or lover. He did not need them when they brought so much pain and anguish.

All he needed was respect. Only respect, be it negative or positive. Love did not exist.

Harrison nodded to himself, eyes dry and emotionless. He would work only for himself, not for anyone else. He would get to the top of the food chain, because then he would be able to rest. There it was him who had the power, and then he would be so alone that no one would ever be able to use him ever again.

Though the biggest problem was to get there, to get the power. He had to slither inside the pureblood groups, become one of them, a friend, a comrade. He would support the ones that had the power, let them think they could use him, help them and support them until they were at the top. When they finally had everything in their hands, Harrison would stab them in their back. He would paint his face with their blood and take their power as his own.

He would live only for himself, and so offering a few or a hundred souls was easy, especially if it would lead him closer to power.

He would willingly become the fox, the shadow of his 'master', because, in this situation, knowledge was power.

* * *

><p>Harrison glanced around the common room. If he was lucky, then the arrogant blonde had yet to leave for his usual group talk.<p>

The common room was somewhat empty, but it was still difficult to spot the blonde where he was hiding in the dark corner of the room. Smiling in statisfaction, Harrison made his way towards the reading blonde. Abraxas had a huge appreciation for books that were not illegal in Hogwarts, but they were bordering on illegal.

Abraxas glanced up as Harrison got closer, and as he did a sneer spread across his face. Harrison refused to show his own displeasure in the greeting he received and intead kept a pleasant mask in place. Smiling he greeted the arrogant fool. "Abraxas."

The other glanced irritatingly into his eyes, fingers crumpling the page in his ancient book. "What?" he drawled.

Harrison's smile stiffened. "We need to talk." Their eyes met, and Abraxas leaned deeper into his chair. After a moment of silence, Abraxas turned his head away from Harrison. "No."

Exhaling forcibly, he glanced around the common room. "Are you sure? I have no doubt that this will be profitable for us both." Harrison had to play his part, and at this moment he had to look disappointed.

Abraxas looked back into his book and continued reading. As he changed page he whispered with loathing, "How can you, a lowly mudblood, give me anything that can be _profitable_."

Harrison silently rolled his eyes. This was not going to work. A small twisted smile spread across his face and he leaned forward, mouth close to Abraxas, who was skilfully ignoring him. "You, my dear Malfoy, are too narrow-minded for your own good."

Abraxas furrowed his eyebrows. "How so?" he asked coldly, not even looking up from his book.

Grinning, Harrison whispered. "I know all about your family's association with Grindlewald… I know that pureblooded children from our house are being given away as soldiers, be it political or military, to him. Are you sure you want such information to leak out?" And just like that, Harrison had stepped into the snake pit for the first time since he entered Hogwarts. Blackmailing the heir of the ancient Malfoy family. Harrison was loosing his mind for sure.

As he had spoken Abraxas eyes had slowly widened and his jaw had tightened. "How can you be so sure that it is not already known what my family is dealing with, they just do not have proof to do anything against us?" He replied after a while, trying to look smug and arrogant, and not as stressed as he really was. Harrison could clearly see that Abraxas was stressed because he brought his hand up to bite his nails. A stupid habit that gave him away.

"I have proof that will bring down at least one family in this room," Harrison answered, twisting his words so that Abraxas would believe that he meant the Malfoy family. Such a foolish mistake, because they were not the only people in the common room. Lestrange was sitting in the other end of the room, and while Harrison had no way of bringing a well-known family down, he could pressure them with what he had witnessed in the library. Surely a suspicious person like Dumbledore would love to get his hands on someone who overheard a conversation between two members of famous families, who were known for their practises in the darker braches of magic.

"You do not, mudblood." Abraxas forced out between stiff lips.

Smiling brightly, and enjoying himself a bit too much, Harrison rolled his shoulders as he leaned away from Abraxas. "How can you be so sure? And do you not think a small talk with me is far too cheap for such dangerous information? I could have used it for something much more profitable, for myself that is."

Abraxas closed his book carefully, before he glanced into Harrison's eyes. Clearly he had gathered his wits. "Indeed," he drawled, and while it looked as though he had managed to compose himself again, Harrison could see that he was rattled. Of course, it was not everyday that a Mudblood blackmailed him.

"I knew you would understand. Shall we talk?" Harrison asked as he smiled forcedly.

"Let us," Abraxas agreed, somewhat bitterly.

Nodding in response, Harrison glanced around the room. "I do not think the common room is the right place for such talk, let us go up to our room – there are no eyes there."

"Law, if you do anything suspicious I will personally cut your tongue out," Abraxas replied, but he stood up from his chair, so Harrison guessed he agreed on his proposal.

"Oh my, a violent man," Harrison whispered sweetly. "Of course, do you think I went through all that just to assault you? What do you see me as? A barbarian?"

Abraxas exhaled tiredly. "It would not surprise me."

"You hurt my feelings," Harrison returned. They made their way up to their dorm room quietly, both forcing themselves to remain as calm as possible. Harrison found it a bit humorous how they both tried to act like grown-ups when they clearly were not.

They entered the dark dorm room and Abraxas closed it silently, before turning around to stare into Harrison's green eyes. "Talk, Law. I do not have time for creatures like you," he drawled and Harrison could not help but think the other boy hoped he would forget the earlier embarrassment.

"Of course, I will not use much of your time," he replied and smiled wider as Abraxas furrowed his nose in annoyance. "Now let me see, where should I begin?" Harrison sang out and bit his lips in amusement as Abraxas bit out a short command. "Law. Now."

"I apologize," Harrison replied, wiping his smug smile off his face. "I have noticed that I have lost the respect I gained in first year, and would like to know if that loss has something to do with my bloodstatus." He strolled up to his shelf and picked up a letter opener. It was beautiful. Though he could expect nothing else when it belonged to one of the pompous pure-blooded children in his dorm room. Glancing over the shelf he almost snorted at the many shiny and ancient objects laying innocently there. They just had to show off their wealth. Harrison heard a tapping sound and turned around with a small cough. "Sorry."

Staring irritatingly at him, Abraxas asked. "What else would it be?"

"It was concerning to see how you changed and began to avoid me right after the holiday, one would think someone told you not to have anything to do with me. After all, such sudden changes without a real reason are not ordinary," Harrison concluded as he walked up to Abraxas.

"Why would anyone tell me not to talk to you? Your bloodstatus is bad enough," Abraxas replied, but made a huge mistake by taking a step backwards as Harrison came closer to him.

Harrison nodded in understanding, but took one step closer to him. "If you had such an opinion from the beginning, I would not have voiced my concerns, but after first year, where we could have a normal conversation, you changed completely."

Abraxas's eyes brightened in anger, and he turned the chase around by walking up to Harrison. He pushed his finger painfully into Harrison's chest. "What I do and think is none of your business." He snarled and Harrison swallowed. Maybe he had made a big mistake by going against the heir. Harrison had not meant to anger Abraxas so much that he would lose his usual coldness and control. "That is true, but as you are the Malfoy heir, it would be profitable for me to be in your circle of friends."

Abraxas shook his head. "You are a mudblood, Law. There is no future for you in our world."

"Are you telling me that my bloodstatus is the only thing keeping you from shaking hands with me?" he asked.

Abraxas smirked, clearly thinking he had won. "Yes."

Checkmate. Harrison had caught him. "If that is your only issue, then we do not have a problem," he drawled in satisfaction.

Abraxas blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"

"We do not have a problem," Harrison repeated.

"No problem? What are you saying, you are a mudblood, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact," Abraxas said, searching Harrison's eyes for something that would indicate that he was lying.

Harrison smirked. "I am not a mudblood."

"Have you lost your mind, Law?"

"What a rude thing to say," Harrison replied hurtfully, clutching his heart. "I am perfectly sane… "

"Then how do you explain such an outrageous thing?" Abraxas asked, snorting in disbelief.

"I have proof," Harrison said. It was surprising how well everything was going. "You remember the Potions class where we were supposed to create the purity potion. Well, let's just say that my result went against the fact that I am, supposedly, a Muggleborn," he murmured, and could not help but let a small smile slip on his face as Abraxas's eyes widened. "What?"

Smirking, Harrison ran his hand through his hair. "It was blue, is what I am saying."

"Impossible, wait… it was half, was it not." Abraxas rambled before he abruptly stopped, breathing evening out and a small smirk forming on his face. He brushed his hands over his robe. "Oh – you poor, poor boy. Can you not remember what professor Slughorn said about the potion? Even a troll would get a blue result, it only makes your status even worse!" He mocked Harrison who had his own smirking smile. Though Abraxas did not seem to notice Harrison's expression. "You received a half blue vial and at once think you are a halfblood. I pity you, Law," he laughed.

"Have I ever said _half _the vial was blue?" Harrison said after a while, and Abraxas's mouth snapped shut. "You said…"

"I said it was blue, not how much." Harrison grinned. "Actually, the entre vial is blue," he said as he pulled the vial out off his pocket. It had been an easy job to borrow the vial from Slughorn – after all, the man was a Slytherin, "-which indicates that either I am a pureblooded magical creature, which is impossible since I have no traits of any creature, or that I am at least a halfblood, with, maybe, some passive creature blood – it is hard to tell, as I do not have money to take a real bloodtest from the bank." Glancing down at the blue vial, he ran his thumb over the clear glass. Harrison was impressed over his own ability to do such things as blackmailing and argumentation. When he had gotten the idea the day before, he had never thought he would succeed. He did not even recognize himself.

"…" Abraxas's lips twitched, and he glanced away from Harrison. He smiled, running his hand through his messy back hair. "I'm not that dirty anymore, am I?"

After a moment in silence Abraxas nodded hesitantly, and began to stroll back and forth in agitation. "Let us say, just hypothetically, that what you are implying is true – then what? What will I gain by allowing you to enter my circle?" He asked curiously, and Harrison could see in his eyes that he was considering it. Harrison was not foolish, he knew the Malfoy heir had been forbidden by someone to talk to him and therefore winning him back again was an easy task. After all, Abraxas had never really hated Harrison. He had just done what he had been brought up doing, following the orders of the one above him and pleasing his family.

"My knowledge, my power – anything you wish to use for your own gain. I am at your disposal," Harrison replied, and he meant it… to a degree that was. He was only offering a temporal condition, but Abraxas did not need to know that.

Abraxas snorted. "And what makes you think I have any use for you?"

"We both know I have the power to go far, the only thing keeping me behind is connections," Harrison reminded him. "You use me for personal gain, and I get a chance to get away from the Muggle world… for good." To get the desired result, he furrowed his eyebrows in distaste as he mentioned the Muggle world. He wished to have a future in the wizarding world, but he held no immense distaste for the Muggle world. "That is my only wish."

Abraxas studied him, face expressionless. "What limits are you willing to go? Are you willing to become my tool?" he murmured sharply.

"I know what I am getting into, Malfoy," he answered strictly, as he bowed his head. Not being able to see his face anymore, the only thing Harrison heard was a soft inhalation. "Are you?"

Harrison licked his lips as he silently apologized to his own pride. He sank down on his knees and took out his wand before laying it in front off him. "I will do anything you wish for. Kill, maim, whatever suits you," he whispered, staring fiercely into Abraxas's eyes.

Abraxas looked pleased. He walked up to Harrison and bowed down to pick up the wand. He studied it for moment before giving Harrison the last test. "Kill yourself?" It had only been whispered, but Harrison had heard it clearly. Stiffening his law, he swallowed forcibly. "…"

Nodding Abraxas turned his back to Harrison, but he still kept an eye on him over his shoulder. "That is the line?"

Exhaling, Harrison shook his head. "If I deem it a worthy cause, then yes. My life is yours to offer. " Abraxas looked surprised by his commitment, but looked irritatingly pleased at the same time. He smiled coldly as he leaned down to look Harrison deeply into his eyes. "Very well," Abraxas agreed and pressed his wand into Harrison's hand. "You have won me over."

Harrison knew he had won him over, but he still had to show Malfoy that he was wiling to do anything, which he was not, but it would be great if Abraxas could believe that. "Would you like a vow?" he murmured, as Abraxas was about to leave the room. The blond boy stopped by the open door and glanced back at Harrison with a considering look. "…No… not yet." He replied before leaving the dorm room a very pleased boy.

Abraxas thought he was the one that had made the choice to trust Harrison, but if anyone else had been in the room they would have seen that Harrison never gave Abraxas a choice. Harrison was not delusional; he knew he could not win every time, but it was lovely to believe he would in that exact moment.

If only his conversations with Tom could be as easy.

* * *

><p>Tom stepped out of the classroom where the meeting had been taking place. It had been in one of the deeper parts of Hogwarts, and as a result the dust could be seen laying upwards the walls. How distasteful. While Tom had not been surprised at his invitation to the pureblooded circle, the arrival of his possession, Harrison, had shocked him. He had known Harrison was not foolish, but it pleased him that the black haired boy had managed to take care off himself. Tom became even surer that he had chosen the right person to obsess about.<p>

Although, it was quite irritating that Harrison had given himself to Abraxas and not Tom. Now, Tom would have to wait before getting Harrison to follow him. He had never been fond of waiting.

Smirking arrogantly, he glanced back at Harrison who had followed him out the door. They were now walking silently through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. It was pleasantly cool for the season, and Tom inhaled the fresh air that circulated through the corridors from the many open windows.

Harrison glanced back at him and Tom's smile brightened. "I have to say… I am impressed," he drawled and Harrison furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "About what?" Harrison asked.

"You managed to get into Abraxas's circle," Tom explained and stared out the window. He glanced behind him once he heard that Harrison had stopped walking.

Harrison was standing with his left hand at his hip and was staring coldly at him. "Oh – he has allowed you to use his first name?" He snickered and shook his head in denial. "It is impressive how someone like you is allowed to use it… don't you think? Halfblood?"

Tom lifted an eyebrow at this and strolled up to Harrison. Standing two meters away from the other he scolded him. "Do not change the topic, Harry. You know what I can do."

"I do, but you should not underestimate me either," Harrison returned.

Rolling his eyes, Tom clicked his tongue. "I have nothing to fear from you."

"No?" Harrison replied as he laughed loudly. "You are so full off shit, Tom."

Tom nodded in understanding. Staring deeply into Harrison's beautiful, poison green eyes, he whished he would drown in them. "And you are not?" He said, just so he could get Harrison angrier. He took one step closer to the other boy, who swallowed in agitation.

"Piss off, I do not want to talk with you," Harrison snapped, but he did not move from his spot in front of Tom. "Why am I even walking with you in the first place?" he asked, and Tom lifted his shoulders. The night was wonderful. The corridors were silent as death, and Tom could almost imagine that they were the only people alive in the huge castle. The wind rushed through the window beside them, and Harrison shivered. Tom licked his lips.

"We were dismissed…" he managed to say after he got his wildly imaginative mind under control. If only Harrison could see himself. Just 13 years old and already sinfully gorgeous. Oh, well. Tom would let such thoughts lie for the time being. He would not let his desires control his actions.

Harrison, who had no idea about what Tom was imagining, smirked. "Well someone is bitter."

"Are you telling me you are not?" Tom answered.

Harrison's smirk fell, and he exhaled. "We all have to start at a place. I am not arrogant enough to believe he will let me be a part of all the gatherings at once… though when I think about it, why are you calling it 'Abraxas's circle'?"

Tom stepped closer to Harrison. "The others may not know it yet, but we know. Do we not?" he whispered and was pleased to see Harrison nod. For once they actually agreed. It had to be a miracle.

Harrison brushed his fingers over his robes as he stepped up to the open window. "He has the power for the moment. It has been passed down to him and he will have it until…" he mumbled before he cut himself off. Tom grinned as Harrison glanced coldly at him. "Until?" Tom murmured, his words chilly though the silence.

"Does it matter?" Harrison said as he glanced hurriedly away from him. Tom would have none of that. He walked closer to Harrison, who looked pissed. "Until what, Harry?" he asked, but the only reply he received was a sour face. "Tell me," he ordered.

Harrison tapped his foot irritatingly against the floor. "I have no duty to tell you anything," he said and pointed his finger towards Tom, who was beginning to enjoy the situation more and more.

"You do," Tom said.

Snorting, Harrison looked away from him. "What? I do not. If you have not noticed, I am following Abraxas."

Tom nodded. "Of course, how foolish off me. I thought you were only using him to get what you desire, to do whatever he asks you so that you can get the power you crave," he concluded. "Am I wrong?"

Harrison smirked. "You are no different, Tom. I know you – you are doing this for yourself and no one else." They both knew this, so Tom smiled in reply before adding, "I am above these narrow-minded creatures."

"You're narrow-minded, too," Harrison replied with a huge grin.

"But at least I am not tricking myself into believing I am doing it for the greater good," Tom said as he glanced distastefully down to the unclean floor. "You and me – we are similar," he murmured after a while, but Harrison did not agree. "We are not. I am not some sociopath," the black haired boy snapped.

"No, you are not, which makes you even more desirable," Tom whispered, staring intensely at Harrison who shifted uncomfortably. "We are both using Abraxas as a stepping stone, and we are both doing it for only ourselves," he said and stepped even closer to Harrison. Now he could reach out and touch the other boy.

He blinked a few times as he saw Harrison's eyes become blank, but it only lasted a few moments before Harrison's eyes cleared and glanced away. "Get away from me."

He shook his head at the command, but did not walk closer to Harrison. "The only difference between us is that I do not feel empathy, while you are suppressing yours. I never had it, you had but you have abandoned it," Tom murmured. For once he was actually completely honest and not lying for his own gain.

"How do you-" Harrison began as though he thought Tom knew something he should not. Smirking, Tom decided to play his role and act as though he knew what Harrison was asking about. "How do I know this?" Tom asked and Harrison nodded carefully.

"Because I pride myself in knowing as much as possible about my own belongings," Tom smirked as Harrison's eyes widened.

"I am not a fucking belonging, Tom. I am a human being," Harrison snapped back, flustered and annoyed at being called a belonging. In Tom's mind, he was something to be owned. He was an unsolvable person that did not fear or respect Tom like all other people in Tom's life, and therefore Tom _had_ to own him. "You should realize that or it will end with you waking up one morning with my knife in your back."

"You fascinate me," Tom smiled. Harrison shook his head as he stepped backwards. "Excuse me?"

"You are so much more than anyone can see," he whispered and reached his hand towards Harrison, who stared blankly at it. "What are you hiding?" Tom was far from foolish; he had noticed that Harrison had been acting strange these last months.

Harrison snorted. "What should I be hiding?" Tom noticed that he shifted uncomfortably as he answered. It only proved that Tom had been right about his suspicion. Grinning, he stepped closer to Harrison. "Something happened this Christmas. What?"

Harrison furrowed his eyebrows as Tom stepped closer. Was it because he felt uncomfortable? "I do not want to have this conversation with you, fuck off." He snapped, but Tom took a step closer. "What happened?" Tom asked. They were almost touching each other now, and for unknown reasons Harrison's face looked stiff and panicky.

"No," was Harrison's stiff reply.

Tom sighed. "You do not say no to me, Harry. You are mine."

Harrison shook his head hurriedly, his eyes had become somewhat blank. "The hell I am."

"You are," Tom repeated, staring at Harrison. "There is no way I will let someone like you get away."

"I am owned by no one," he gritted out. He looked sick, Tom noted. Something was seriously off. Not that it was going to stop Tom from arguing with him. "Yes, you are." Tom replied.

"No," Harrison closed his eyes forcefully for a moment, before opening them slowly, as thought he was trying to deny something.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

Shaking his head in panic, Harrison grasped his head with his left hand. "No! Get away from me!" he screamed and Tom could not help but feel that Harrison's words had a double meaning. It was not only meant for him.

Tom could only stare at the other boy as Harrison began to breathe harshly. "Get away," Harrison repeated. Curious, Tom leaned forward. Blank, fearful eyes stared unseeingly at Tom; what could be the reason for such a reaction. It could not only be Tom that caused it; no matter how much he wished it were his work.

Harrison blinked several times before he shook his head back and forth while mumbling incoherently. He glanced into Tom's eyes and his breath was caught in his throat. "No!" He screamed and Tom's eyes widened in shook.

* * *

><p>Harrison loathed the voice. It tortured him everyday, and he had yet to find a way to run away from it. When he and Tom had begun their conversation everything had been normal and totally in his comfort zone. The voice was there but he could at least hear his own words. Though the closer Tom had walked to him the louder it had become.<p>

One step closer to Tom, resulted in louder voices. They began to scream into his ear and it became unbearable.

**_"Riddle Family… James Potter… Lily Potter… Rosaline Greystone..."_**

He had never heard names before, only dates.

_**"Hepzibah Smith, 1946, poison… cocoa… Hokey… mistake… no… locket…"**_

Harrison glanced up into Tom's eyes, as his breath was caught in his throat. It was too much. He could not handle this much information.

Not being able to keep in inside anymore he screamed. "No!" He closed his eyes forcibly, but opened them hurriedly once he heard the soft sound of wind surging through corridors. Once again, he could see the shadow. A grey shadow spread across every surface and devoured all life in its way. The normally light corridor somehow managed to attain a dark color in a few seconds, it was as though the life in the building had been sucked right out off it. The windows cracked in certain areas and small bits of stone crumbled from the walls. It had all been survivable, had it not been for the continuing screaming in his ears.

**_"Riddle Family, 1943, father… grandmother… grandfather… killing… crime… Gaunt… abuse… no…"_**

Harrison was certain he would go mad if this continued. He stared at Tom who looked absolutely shocked. A small line of red blood was running down from his nose, and it seemed as thought Tom only noticed it as Harrison stared intently at it.

Brushing his fingers under his nose he glanced down at the crimson liquid. "Wha-?" he murmured. "Blood?"

Harrison opened his mouth, but no words managed to come out. He was dizzy, feeling sick and wished to be somewhere else. Shaking his head he bit his lips harshly.

"Harry? What are you doing?" Tom asked and Harrison whispered quietly. "It is so noisy… I will go mad at this rate."

Harrison heard Tom shift. "Harry, what is wrong?"

"_**Voldemort… crimes… war… murder… "**_

Harrison wanted to cry. "Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet. I do not want to know this… I do not care," he repeated as he grasped his head forcibly, stumbling backwards.

"Harrison, calm down," Tom ordered calmly and took one step closer to Harrison who only backed away. "No, no, no, no, no," he cried hoarsely, but Tom did not listen and walked closer. "Calm. Down." How could he?

"Don't get closer. No! Don't touch me!" Harrison yelled, but he did not move as Tom moved closer to him. His eyes were blank and his face, flustered. "No… please… don't – " Harrison began, but could not finish his sentence as Tom had walked up to him and tightly grasped his shoulder with his left hand.

Silence.

That was probably the first thing Harrison could register. He could not hear anything; not a whisper, not a sound, only the inhaling and exhaling of two boys.

How could it be? He had heard it constantly for months. Was it possible for it to disappear just like that? Harrison stared wide-eyed at Tom who was looking at him with curious eyes. "It's silent." He whispered and Tom looked confused. He was still grasping Harrison's shoulder.

"I can't hear it anymore."

"Who?" Tom asked.

"Death."

**To be continued!**


	16. XVI

**Disclaimer:** I am not J. K. Rowling, And I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So here it is - chapter 16! There has not been happening a lot between our dear sociopath and Harrison, but I will happily say that there will be some _action_ in this chapter - look forward to it! Now, enjoy!

Many thanks to my beta, Hall.1630!

* * *

><p><em><strong>You're an addiction... My obsession... - Sylvia Day<strong>_

Harrison regretted it as soon as the words had left his mouth. He felt like a fool, to say that he was talking, or maybe it was better to call it listening, to death. A normal person would never believe it, but unfortunately to Harrison, Tom had never been ordinary. No, far from it. As Harrison glanced through his fringes at Tom, he knew that Tom was seriously considering his words. Somehow it made Harrison feel less like a fool.

Tom noticed Harrison's stare and smirked. "You do not believe your own words, do you?" he drawled, and Harrison had to agree. He never quite believed that he could hear death predictions himself.

Harrison felt tired enough to share his thoughts with Tom. "I don't want to believe it." His mouth twisted in distaste, "And if you know what is good for you then you won't believe it either."

Tom looked delighted. "Are you threatening me?" Tom was still touching Harrison's shoulder, and even though the elder boy knew he should have slapped it away he did not dare try. There was a chance that the voice, or death as he had called it, would return.

"Yes, I believe I am," Harrison replied. Well, when he thought about it there was no way he could keep Tom's hand on his shoulder forever, so maybe it was better to do it sooner than later. He inhaled deeply, before he slapped Tom's hand away.

The voice returned, but it was soft and actually quite comfortable compared to its earlier loud tone. Tom did not look offended, he only smiled eerily. "Good, I love it when you are feisty."

"Well, fuck you," he returned, showing his finger in a rather Muggle way. Harrison knew what Tom felt for the nonmagical, and he would only use it against him.

Tom's eyebrows twitched in irritation, clearly it had some effect on him. Smirking, Harrison looked down on Tom. "You're an imbecile, Tommy boy. You should take my threat seriously; for all you know I can control this power, the power of death."

"Why are you calling it death? Surely whatever you are talking about is just a figment of your imagination." Tom rolled his shoulders, and Harrison remembered that the only thing he really had told Tom had been that he had heard 'death'. "From what I have understood, you are hearing something no one else can hear. Now, I do not know about you but most would believe such symptoms are a result of insanity. Not that it makes me want you any less, you may be insane for all I care." He was staring interestingly at Harrison, who's face had slowly soured as Tom had talked.

"How can you be so sure that what I'm hearing is not real?" Harrison asked, even though he could understand Tom's logic. Not that he believed Tom's mind worked in the way normal people's minds worked. He was way too weird to be ordinary in any way.

Tom nodded at his question; he had the same face their teachers often had when explaining something difficult to fools. And Harrison was not a fool. "I cannot, but if I look at this situation from the view of an ordinary person then you are indeed mad, my dear Harry," Tom drawled.

Harrison was not impressed. "And you are a sociopath, my dear Tommy."

"That, I cannot argue against," Tom agreed, and it irritated Harrison that he agreed to his faults so easily. Though when he thought about it, Tom probably did not look at it as a fault. No, he saw it as a strength without a shadow of doubt. Cocky bastard. Tom tilted his head as he stared straight into Harrison's eyes. "Though I do not look at the world through ordinary eyes and can not discharge the possibility that you are hearing something else than a figment of your imagination." Tom was too smart for his own good, or maybe for Harrison's good.

Harrison grinned. "Staff room, 18.13, 27.12.38." He noticed with pleasure the confused look that spread across Tom's face.

"What?" Tom asked. He had actually asked a question. A question to Harrison. It felt incredible. He could get used to this.

Not being able to get enough of the current situation, Harrison continued to give small hints. "I knew it before it happened," he murmured.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "You-" Tom began before his eyes widened and he snapped his head towards the end of the corridor. "Who is there!" he yelled, and Harrison glanced in the same direction. They heard a clear gasp, and then the sound of someone running away. Harrison stared shocked at the end of the corridor, not believing what he had just heard. They had been overheard. Harrison's embarrassing and somewhat insane comments had been heard by an ordinary person. He was fucked if it was spread. He had no desire to be known as insane!

"Shit!" he snapped before he exhaled loudly, trying to relax. There was nothing he could do now that it had been heard. Harrison looked back at Tom. "Well then, I guess our conversation is finished - goodbye, Tom."

Before Harrison could take another step Tom reached out, grasping his arm. Tom leaned closer to Harrison, smirking. "You will not go anywhere before I am finished with you."

"You have no power over me," Harrison said disbelievingly, tugging at his arm.

"Not yet…" Tom agreed. "I have come to understand that you are a wild card. I cannot control you, cannot tame you, because you have something even I can not attain… Ah - you are absolutely delicious, Harry. Do you know that? If I could, I would lock you away in a room so no one else would ever be able to touch such a creature like you." He leaned closer to Harrison, mahogany eyes staring possessively into Harrison's forest green eyes. They were close again, and while it made his voice weirdly quiet it worried Harrison that the other boy had such an effect on him. Especially since he desired to escape death's voice - it was appealing to be close to the mad boy. Harrison bit his lips at the thought. "You're sick, Tom," he murmured.

Tom laughed loudly, and Harrison looked at him in question, not seeing anything humorous in his words. "And you adore me for my qualities," he managed to say in between his laugh. After a few more seconds of chuckles, he tightened his grip on Harrison's arm painfully. The situation shifted too fast to be normal, and Harrison swallowed at Tom's serious expression. "Now… I believe I should mark you," he whispered as he leaned closer to Harrison, who leaned away from him.

Harrison glanced worriedly at Tom as he brought his free arm to push the boy away from his pursuit. Though Tom grasped his hand, and they both tumbled backward. Harrison's back hit the wall, and he winced. "What the hell-" he murmured in surprise. Tom chuckled before leaning forward to sink his teeth into Harrison's neck. "Ughuaa!" Fuck, it hurt. Harrison wrenched himself free, clasping a hand over the painful wound. Tom glanced at him, nodding in what seemed to be satisfaction. "Crazy asshole, have you lost your mind?" Harrison asked in disbelief. The bastard had bit him! In the neck, like some crazy animal. If Harrison had been uncertain about Tom's state of mind before then he no longer was. Tom Marvolo Riddle was as crazy as Cassandra, if not worse.

"Now I know that some magical creatures cannot steal you from me. Unfortunately, that is the only mark I can give you… for now," Tom drawled, licking his lips. Harrison noticed a small red speck on his lips and brushed his fingers over the bite mark before glancing at them - he was bleeding.

Glancing up in anger, he snarled. "You'll regret that," And he would. Harrison stepped forward, bringing his fist up to smash it into Tom's cheek. The other boy stumbled to the side from the force, and a wonderful painful - ugh - slipped past his arrogant lips. Harrison smirked in satisfaction.

Tom was nursing his cheek gently as blood slowly ran from his nose. There was also a cut in his lips. "Ah - your fist of love," Tom murmured as he stared into Harrison's eyes.

"I hate you," Harrison returned. Tom smirked in return before he straightened his back, stepped closer to Harrison and lifted his left foot to smash it into Harrison's side. The green-eyed boy hissed in pain.

"I adore your very being," Tom whispered as Harrison crouched low on the floor to kick Tom's feet from the floor. Hitting the floor harshly, Tom only used a second to orientate himself before he threw himself at Harrison.

Harrison rolled backward hoping to get away from the other boy, but only managed to throw his head into the wall. "Fuck off, Tom!" he yelled, closing his eyes in pain.

Tom threw his head back as he laughed in pure happiness; Harrison glanced tearfully through his eyes in anger. He shot forward, gripping Tom's irritatingly silky hair tightly and smashing his other fist straight into his nose.

Blood ran freely from his nose, but Tom held his crazy smile in place. Not the one to let Harrison win, he slammed his hand into Harrison's chin. The other let go off his hair in shock while kicking Tom in the stomach.

"Yes! Get fired up, the look in your eyes are wonderful. Bright green, like poison - if they belonged to anyone else but you I would have removed them from their eye sockets and kept them in a nice glass box! It would have been such a pretty sight!" Tom laughed and somehow Harrison too felt oddly happy. The entire situation was euphoric. Shit, Tom was bad influence.

They were fighting, like Muggles, like wild animals. Blows were exchanged, nails scratching into skin - Harrison had forgotten where he was. There was only him and Tom.

Not being able to hold his excitement, Harrison laughed loudly as he managed to kick Tom painfully in the leg. "Then let me extract your mahogany orbs! I'm sure you will be pleased to have them in a crystal container!" Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, not Cassandra, not anyone.

Tom managed to grip his neck tightly, digging his nails into the bite wound, bringing new blood into the air. Hissing in pain, Harrison snarled. "Mad bastard!" He was out of breath, the blows and kicks becoming weaker after each second. Both of them exhaled and inhaled harshly, bodies almost pressed close in what some would call a hug. Tom smirked. He had never acted in such a way before; he was always egoistic and arrogant, never aggressive like Harrison.

Tom's breath, warm and moist, hit Harrison's face. "You too are insane, or have you forgotten? I am only a sociopath," he murmured, brushing his hand tiredly over Harrison's red and somewhat purple cheek.

"Go to hell!" Harrison snapped back, refusing to back down. He would never lose to Tom, never.

His hand halted on Harrison's cheek, sliding down to his neck where Tom massaged the irritated bite mark. "Only with you," he whispered; Harrison swallowed at the sincerity in Tom's words.

Furrowing his eyebrows in pain as Tom pressed his nail deeply into the wound yet again, Harrison slapped it forcefully away. He refused to bow down to Tom; only a bite mark was defeat. Harrison's eyes widened as an idea flashed through his head.

Smirking, he grasped Tom's hair in a flash, tugging his head to the side as Harrison dug his teeth into Tom's spotless skin. "Ahhgh…" he heard Tom groan painfully and pressed his teeth deeper into the wound in satisfaction. Yes - now Tom too had lost this fight.

Harrison leaned back, grinning at Tom with bloody lips. "Taste tha-" he began, but Tom's lips cut him off. Smooth lips met his bloody ones in a light kiss. His eyes widened in shock, not quite believing it.

It was only for a second, and if it had been anyone else than Tom, Harrison would have called it innocent.

Tom stared into Harrison's eyes, oddly calm. "Your lips are so soft," he murmured. "Was that your fist kiss, Harry?"

Harrison narrowed his eyes, refusing to react to Tom's taunts - if it could be called taunts. He glanced away, leaning away from Tom. "No… it was not," he answered though it was clear to both of them that he was lying.

After a few minutes in silence, Tom stood up. "Your first kiss is mine," he murmured quietly to himself, as he tried to brush the dust gathered form the floor off his uniform. When he deemed it clean enough, he glanced up into Harrison's eyes. "I will take your virginity too…" Tom grinned nastily before he added, "But that will have to wait - unfortunately."

Harrison stared unimpressed at the boy in front of him. "Have you lost your mind?" He felt that no matter what Tom said he would not be shocked, or at least not at the moment. Fuck, he was getting too used to the sociopath.

Tom ignored his question. "You should be pleased too, Harry. I gave you my first kiss."

"This is way too weird," Harrison said, because it was. It was weird and totally incomprehensible how he could be in such a situation with Tom.

"Indeed," Tom nodded.

Studying the other Slytherin for a moment, Harrison sighed loudly. "Hahh - let's go back. I don't want to use any more energy on you."

Tom looked pleased as he smirked. "Very well."

Harrison felt as though he had just invited something awful deeper into his life.

* * *

><p>Cole sniffed as she glanced down at the letters in her hand. Why did she have to do this again? Couldn't her old and ugly husband do it for her? Especially since it was him who paid for everything anyway.<p>

The large cushioned chair she was sitting in was comfortable and wonderfully situated in front of the fireplace. Cole wanted to relax and maybe drink a cup of tea, not look through these letters.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, she began to look through the letters. Luckily there were few this time. The first one was a bill so she dutifully laid on the table for her husband, the second a small letter for one of the children at the orphanage. Letters were always sent to the orphanage itself, so she always collected them and gave them out to the children. Though not before reading through them. If they were too positive, or just plain unrealistic she would throw them away. If not, she would happily give them to the child. As a grown-up, it was her duty to help the children, and over positivism was dangerous in the world they lived. Cole was just doing it for their own good.

The third had an expensive looking envelope, irritatingly so if she might add. Licking her lips in disdain, Cole violently ripped it open.

It was an old picture of a young boy and a woman. The boy looked very sour, and was staring angrily up at the woman who was gripping his shoulder tightly so he would not move. The woman had curly hair and was one of the most beautiful woman Cole had ever witnessed. There was nothing else in the envelope, so Cole had no idea who it was. She furrowed her eyebrows, flipping the picture so she would see the back of it. In small scribbled words it was written:

_"Harrison Law, I do not want this anymore."_

The child's surname was scribbled in a much uglier way than the other words, so much that if Cole had not known who Harrison was she would not have been able to comprehend it at all.

Looking at the photo again, she shrugged before laying it on the table with the other letters. She would give it to the child when he returned from school.

None of the next letters were worthy of any mention, only bills and boring letters. Just as she was about to finish reading the last letter, her husband entered the room. He trotted up to the chair beside her's, knowing that the letter on the table were for him.

He slumped tiredly into a chair, his body much older than her's. Cole despised him and his ugly appearance. Though at least he was neat and kept his surroundings clean. "These are for me, Bertie?" he asked, motioning for the letters.

Cole did not look up from the letter in her hands. "Yes, Dietrich," she answered coldly. They both knew the letters were for him, so why did he have to ask every single time?

Dietrich picked them up to flip through them. "There's an awful lot today," he murmured, and Cole tried to ignore it. She waited for him to say anything else - because he always did - but when nothing was asked, Cole glanced up at him.

He was staring wide-eyed at the picture of the child and the woman. "Freyja…" Dietrich whispered unbelievingly. "How…" he turned to her, looking her straight in her eyes - which was unusual - as he pointed at the photo. "Who is this child?"

"A child from the orphanage," Cole answered only glancing up to confirm that he was talking about the photo of Harrison Law.

Dietrich glanced back at it, brushing a finger over the woman's face. "He looks just like her… But how? Freyja is not capable of having a child," he whispered so quietly that Cole had problems hearing his words. After a moment, he mumbled, "Is he parentless?"

Hopefully, he is, Cole thought. "I am not sure. When he came to the orphanage, he said his mother was missing," she replied.

Dietrich stood up in a hurry. "Bertie!" he said strongly, and she jumped in shock in her chair. Had he yelled her name? How inappropriate. "What?" she snapped back.

"Where is my contact book?" he was still staring at the photo.

Cole stared angrily at him. She was not his servant! "I do not know." She knew, but Cole was not going to tell him when he acted in such a way.

Dietrich ignored her, storming out of the room. Just as he walked out, Cole heard him murmur. "Wichard… he has to know."

Oh well, it probably had nothing to do with her.

* * *

><p>He had finally managed to get away from Tom; that stalker. Why did the other boy have to get so close to him? Harrison knew he should have disliked it more than he was, but somehow Tom had actually - and surprisingly - taken a place in his heart. Scratch that, he had not thought something as disturbing as that.<p>

Harrison was strolling away from the library, the corridor empty because everyone was in the great hall eating dinner. It was comfortable being alone for a change. After all, it was not easy to find silence in a boarding school.

Hoisting his bag further up on his shoulder, Harrison sighed in contentment.

Just as he passed one of the many classrooms, it slammed open and before he could react he was dragged inside. Harrison lost his balance, resulting in a painful fall to the stone floor. Groaning in pain, he used a moment to orientate himself, which was difficult with through the dizziness. Had he hit his head too?

Harrison tried to push himself up, but was hindered by a foot pressing him further into the floor.

"What the fuck?" he whispered in disbelief. Why did trouble always follow him? He never asked for it.

Harrison tried again, but with the same result. Going to more desperate measures, he reached down to get his wand from his pocket, but just as he was about to get it, his captor whispered an incantation, and his hands were bound on his back.

"Isn't he pretty on the floor?" he heard someone whisper - had he not heard that voice before? Harrison was certain he had talked to whoever it was. Though who had he angered enough to make them go to such measures like this?

"Indeed," he heard a someone, who most probably was a girl, answer. She giggled, and Harrison heard her move through the room - was she dancing? Trying to glance up, he saw a young girl with burning red hair dance through the room in a ballet-like style. She was laughing loudly, and every time she glanced back at Harrison it was with a lustful stare.

Harrison was dragged up from the floor, his male captor gripping his hands tightly. He was unable to move. Glancing over his shoulder with difficulty, the only thing he caught was red hair. Harrison knew who it was. "Now, now, Sexta. You're having some dirty thoughts, are you not?" He heard the boy reply as he bit into Harrison's ear. Fucking perverts.

The girl, Sexta, halted in her dance and walked happily up to them. She ran a slim finger over Harrison's chin, caressing it. She smiled. "And you're telling me you're not thinking about the same thing, beloved brother?" Septimus, it was no one else, laughed warmly. "If I said no it would be a lie."

Harrison swallowed harshly. There were many things he could handle, but perverts like these two he could not even begin to comprehend; handling them was quite difficult. When he finally felt he had some understanding of Tom, someone, just as crazy, had to come along and destroy his peace of mind.

"Get off me," he ordered, deciding that keeping calm was the best way to handle the situation. Sexta nodded in what Harrison would have liked to be understanding, before she leaned up to lick his lips. Swiping her tongue over lips several times, disgustingly similar to the way a dog had done it to him in the past.

"No, not yet, pretty," she whispered, panting, and Harrison felt Septimus exhale warmly at his neck. They were crazy. Septimus tugged at Harrison's arms, forcing their bodies closer.

Sexta watched in appreciation. "Harrison Law, such a wonderful name… Septimus, say his name," she moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure. Harrison had no idea what they found arousing about his name. It was just plain disturbing to see the way they were acting.

Septimus chuckled, licking Harrison's neck. "Harrison Law." It was only a whisper, but they all heard it. Sexta threw her head back. "Hmm - delicious." Her hands were caressing her own face, going down to the neck where they halted.

"I want him," she whispered.

"No yet," Septimus replied.

The situation was getting more and more uncomfortable, and Harrison slightly panicked when the twins both sighed at the same time. They sounded - guilty?

Sexta pursed her lips, glancing back at Harrison. "We don't want to hurt you, precious." She stepped closer; Harrison flinched. Alright, now he knew they had planned something else than to use him as their personal pleasure toy. And by the sound of it, it would hurt.

Septimus nuzzled Harrison's neck, inhaling his scent. "Don't worry. You'll survive."

Harrison tugged strongly at his arms. It had not sounded like Septimus was trying to reassure him. No, not at all. It sounded as though he looked forward to it.

"Please whimper and scream for us. You'll do that, right?" the red-haired boy asked.

Harrison would deny it if anyone asked, but he felt threatened. These two were not completely sane; there was no telling what they would do. Though at least he would not die, if he were to believe Septimus.

"No," he snapped; he would not pleasure them with his screams. Harrison would not say a thing no matter what they did to him.

"That's a pity," Sexta whispered, and Harrison snapped his head up to look at her. Wait, when had he looked away?

His eyes widened as he saw her pull a small knife out of her pocket. Sexta whispered an incantation, and the knife enlarged worryingly. It was decorated with colorful gems and the blade itself was full of runes. Harrison swallowed. It was a ritual knife.

They were going to use him for something in a ritual.

Harrison thrashed even more, trying to get free, but with no result. "No!" he yelled as Sexta stepped closer.

She smiled warmly and, if she had not held a huge knife in her hand, kindly. "We love you, Harrison." And with that she drove the knife into his stomach.

Blood spattered onto the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ...And a cliffhanger. Hope you enjoyed it!;P


	17. XVII

**Disclaimer: **I am not J. K. Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p><strong>AN:** Alright, here it is - Chapter 17!

Many thanks to my beta, Hall.1630!

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><p><strong>Blackness is the beginning of whiteness, and a sign of putrefaction and alteration - Artephius<strong>

* * *

><p>Pain had never been something Harrison believed he lacked in his life.<p>

As long as he could remember, there had been aspects of his life that had contained either cold and biting physical pain or warm and slowly madding emotional pain. The loss of Arren reminding him of his own inability to keep anything good in his life. The hunger cramping through his stomach as he stared at the beer bottles in the fridge. The stones thrown harshly at him by his classmates. These were all different kinds of pain, and in a way, Harrison had thought he knew every possible way he could be tortured. And how could he have been so naive? He knew nothing about pain.

Every single memory of hurtful nights of hunger, tears streaming down his pale cheeks or painful slaps from his mother disappeared down the sink when the cold knife broke through his skin. At first, he could only stare in disbelief at the knife halfway into his abdomen. It was hard to believe, and he partially believed he was dreaming until the pain registered in his brain. Sharp and cold, and so real. Harrison's mouth opened in a short painful gasp, and his head fell forward as his eyes clouded in pain.

Harrison had seen a man been stabbed before. In the muddy and dirty streets, where his home had been for so many years. Too young to remember his own age, Harrison had been outside his home - it had been locked - with a grey ball in his small hands. It had been a coincidence, that he had seen it. The man had rushed out of his house on the other side of the street, yelling and screaming at a woman who was screaming back. One thing led to another, and Harrison had been staring at the woman as she rushed forward and pushed a somewhat large kitchen knife into the man's stomach. He did not remember much more than thinking how he better keep knives away from himself. Maybe he was shocked, traumatised. Who knows, it did not matter much now.

However, now he could understand why the man had howled out and scrunched his face in pain when the woman had stabbed him. Was he going to die like the man had done? Harrison coughed, and inhaled as panic flooded. He did not want to die, not yet, not ever.

Septimus held him close to his warm and breathing chest, and Harrison felt somewhat grateful for the support. Had it not been for the body behind him, he would have fallen down on the floor as soon as the crazy woman had stabbed him.

Swallowing forcefully, Harrison pushed his teeth into his bottom lip, bringing forth an uncomfortable metallic taste. It reminded him that he was bleeding somewhere else too. He wanted to gag at the entire situation.

The knife had been left stylishly in his stomach, and while the hilt was well decorated and beautiful, it did nothing to relive the pain. He wanted to remove it. Although, maybe it was for the best that it had been left, because the bleeding would probably become fatal if the knife was removed. If it had not already done damage enough to become fatal, that is. Blood had been running down his abdomen, soaking his clothes and dripping down onto the cold floor, where the liquid warmed the floor for a few seconds before the red substance inherited the coldness. Soon, Harrison too would become cold. Cold and dead.

Harrison gritted his teeth in anger. He refused to die like this. Killed by two crazy twins he had no desire to know or have anything to do with. Glancing at the knife, he cringed at the sight. The knife was placed directly in the middle of his abdomen, where he was sure his navel was, and somehow the perfect placement of the tool seemed out of place. Almost, as thought Sexta had placed it there on purpose. Maybe because she knew how fatal it would be if she messed up his internal organs? It was hard to say, but Harrison knew he had no chance of survival if he removed the knife. However, it was difficult to know if he could survive even if it was not removed. Harrison swallowed in panic as he tried not to think about where the knife had struck. How long could he survive with a messed up intestines? Could it even be fixed at all? Were magic better at healing wounds than Muggles were, Harrison certainly hoped they were or else he was already doomed to die.

_'Fuck it all, fuck every single thing'_ It had been his mantra for the last minutes - or maybe it was seconds. Nothing made sense anymore and the pain had been gradually getting stronger as time went by.

Septimus shifted behind him, brushing his lips against Harrison's neck in a loving way. "It's alright." He murmured into Harrison's ears. Harrison snorted at the comment, because it was definitely not alright. Maybe Septimus would like to try it? Try having a knife forced into him, that is. Harrison would gladly offer it to him. Drive a much larger knife across, not his abdomen, but his throat. Harrison leaned his head back against Septimus's throat, imagining. Then the redhead would feel the horrible pain Harrison was experiencing at he moment. The icy cold blade against his own warm and living muscles, sucking his entire future away - slowly, but surely, denying Harrison everything he had worked for. He was going to die, one way or another. It was only fair that he took Septimus and Sexta with him to the underworld. It was only fair that they suffered too.

The mental image of both twins dying a painful death, was disrupted as Harrison felt Septimsu exhale forcefully again his neck. Blinking, he tried to glance at the other boy, which proved to be a difficult move and with the streams of pain shooting through his body he soon regretted the movement. Harrison heard a feminine intake of air, and he glanced slowly towards where he knew Sexta was standing.

Sexta was staring excitedly at Harrison, and her mouth was hanging open in a disturbingly ecstatic manner. It looked as though she was high on something. She licked her lips, before she swept her hands forth to sweep up a drop of blood from Harrison's lower abdomen. From there the red substance were brought to her mouth, where she pushed all four of her fingers inside, tongue sweeping disgustingly sensual over all the digits. Harrison hated her.

"Fuck off…" He managed to choke, mouth feeling heavy and every single part of his body difficult to control. Sexta's eyes lightened considerably, and she smiled warmly at him. "I _said_ we love you." She replied, eyes roaming over Harrison's pale and currently sweaty condition.

"If I could, then I would kiss you. Yes, I would kiss you right now, right here, at this moment!" She grinned. "However, for all this to succeed I cannot do such a thing… but, ah, how I want to do it. And then maybe at the same time push that knife deeper into your beautiful container, then drag it out, just to push it inside again. Imagine the sound it would make… 'squishy', 'squelch'," Sexta twisted her tongue and produced a series of squelching sounds, as she moved her hands in intricate movements. Glancing up at Harrison, she laughed hysterically at his twisted look. "Ah, don't look like that! We're just having fun, aren't we, Septimus?"

"I'm hard." Septimus murmured into Harrison's ear, and Harrison felt a cold shiver run up his spine. He wanted to get out of the room, now.

"See! It's wonderful… Everything is wonderful. It's senseless and horrible to the point its delightful!" She was digging her nails into her arms, and if she did not let go soon she would bring forth blood, Harrison was certain of that when looking at her sharp nails.

"But, for the ritual to work and you to… maybe survive… we must be careful not to mix unnecessary salvia with your's. Imagine how horribly wrong it could go if the wrong ingredient was used. I've never seen it happen before, but I've read so much about it - the books explain it so precisely it's breathtaking." Sexta explained and Harrison's eyes widened. Were he not meant to be a sacrifice? Would he survive? Exhaling in anger, Harrison glared angrily at her. How humiliating, to have them decide his fate. No, they had no such power. They had no right to decide if he was going to live or not. If there was anyone who had right to decide then it was Harrison. He had had enough people in his life trying to take his choices for him. They would pay for this.

_'I want to exterminate these creatures'_ Harrison thought, eyes burning into the girl in front of him. They had hurt him, they had wounded him just like his mother had, like Esmeralda, and therefore they had a price to pay.

The pain that had felt cold and draining, bubbled and heated with his emotions. He was burning. The world was swimming back and forth. Sexta's face lost her ecstatic expression and soon she was twisting her face in anguish. Yes, this was just what he wanted. She had to suffer, like he was suffering.

Sexta sighed, and Harrison fell out of his imaginations. "Septimus, he's getting angrier… before he kills us, we have to… ahh… I love that face, Harrison, dominated by pain and anger." She whispered and only fuelled his growing anger. For the first time, Harrison wished the power that usually scared him to go wild. Maybe if he got angry enough? "You're an abnormal piece, did you know?" She said and Harrison stared somewhat confused at her. Exhaling, Harrison scrunched his eyebrows in both mental and physical pain. She was absolutely insane and f he did not do anything soon, he would probably experience much more pain than he currently was in. Even though it was difficult to imagine.

"I hate you both…" Harrison whispered, trying to fuel his anger and bury his panic. "No, I despise you foolish creatures… You're going to pay for this, I will make you pay the price."

Sexta giggled. "We know! We know! We'll pay the ultimate price!"

Harrison felt Septimus nod, before the boy murmured. "I apologise, but… you can't hate 'us'. It's not really possible, you see." It made no sense at all, and Harrison felt his own reply tumble out of his mouth before he could think about it. "What?"

Chuckling, Septimus pressed Harrison closer to his body, which resulted in a heightening the pain racking through Harrison's body. He gasped and whimpered, but hurriedly tried to muffle his humiliating cries. "Sexta and I are the same… We are not 'we', in the normal sense. Our bodies is two separate beings, but my mind is the same as her's… So hating 'us both' is not technically possible. Hating 'you' would be much more accurate."

It made no sense. It only proved how far gone into insanity these two people were. Harrison thought the Weasley's were supposed to be light. "Shit, what did I deserve to be dragged into this situation?" He murmured to himself, and, of course, Sexta had to reply to his rhetorical question.

"Oh, you did too much, my dear!" Sexta was staring at him pleasantly, a kind smile present on her face. It did not suit her at all. "You asked me to do this, you sent a sign to both Sexta's and Septimus's containers, and they have responded in tact to your wish." The more they talked the less they made sense.

"No, I did not!" He yelled in response, breathing harshly. Shit, he was loosing blood. Did he have an internal bleeding?

Sexta shock her head at his denial. "You did - it's no sue denying it," staring at Harrison's complexion, cold sweating and breathing harshly, she nodded in satisfaction. Glancing past Harrison, she said. "Septimus, I think he has lost enough blood now - let's move on with the ritual."

"Finally… I think we should let the knife be until he has drunk the potion. He would probably bleed to death if we removed it before the ritual really began…" He murmured, and Harrison was somewhat glad to hear that one of them had managed to retain some sense of logic in their insanity. However, it did not make the situation any better. Bitting his lips, Harrison tried to get away from Septimus. The pain was shooting up and down his body, and nothing was working appropriately. The only thing that could save him now, was his magic. And without his wand, only the anger managed power could be used.

Harrison felt drained, and tired, so while there were a constant anger bubbling inside, it was difficult to fuel it. How he wanted to close his eyes and sleep. Why had he not researched the power before? Why had he not tried to find another way to control it than with his stupid anger. How foolish of him.

"So, I hold his mouth open and your force him to drink it?" Septimus asked, and when Sexta drew her wand he shook his head. "No, not with magic - we have to let every spell go before he drinks it - it could mess with the ritual." Nodding, she whispered something and Harrison felt his hands loosen, she had moved the binding on his hands. Septimus's warm hands was not clutching Harrison, as though he thought Harrison could actually run. He was too dizzy and cold to do anything, but think, or at least that is what it felt like.

Septimus held Harrison's hands with one hand, and with the other he pressed his long fingers into Harrison's cheek, forcing his mouth open. It hurt. Harrison noticed Sexta bring forth a small black bottle from her pocket. Shaking it, she smiled warmly at Harrison. "This will hurt a bit," was all she said, before she pressed her fingers into the side of his wound where the knife was hindering her in doing much but stirring forth more blood.

It was too much, and soon Harrison was screaming hoarsely in anguish. Through his whimpers and screams, he heard Sexta chuckle. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" While his eyes had been humid since the start, now small tears were streaming down his face.

The pain had risen to a new hight and Harrison felt as though he was being ripped apart from within. Blood dripping into the floor, haunting sounds of drop splashing into the floor only for another to follow. It was so warm against his own cold sweating skin. Harrison did not want to die. Stirring, it rose in tact to the pain, as though it understood that his anger was not enough, now it feasted on his anguish. The room chilled considerable and Harrison could hear small gasps, one exited and another cautious. The next thing he knew, the potion was being forced into his mouth, and he swallowed as he was about to choke on it. It burnt, and it felt as though he had eaten a chilly. Coughing, he felt his uncontrollable power turn in the doorway. After a few seconds, he could no longer feel it. He felt empty and abandoned.

"What?" He chocked, tears streaming down his face. Had, whatever it was, also abandoned him in his time of need?

A warm hand stroked his wet cheeks kindly, nursing his bitten lip. "We knew you had something up your sleeve, we just made sure it did not ruin the ritual… don't worry you will get it back soon, when all this is finished - and if you survive, that is. The potion helps the ritual and seals your magic for the time being. As soon as it has past your system, then you'll get it back. Either alive or dead, we will have to see." Sexta murmured as Harrison slumped heavily against Septimus, who held him up by his arms.

The horrible pain had also begun to lessen, slowly he was loosing connection with his own body. Harrison felt Septimus drag him over the floor, before laying him down on the floor. "Is this good enough, Sexta?" He heard Septimus ask Sexta who hummed in response.

"Yeah, in the middle of the circle… that's it… I don't think he's suppose to be in a special position - but we have to remove the knife before we go." She replied, and Harrison could feel them moving him around on the horribly cold floor. He was staring up into the roof, and could only see them moving in the side of his eyes. Harrison had no strength to move his body. Slowly loosing contact with the outer world. Either he was dying or it was a result of the ritual.

He was so cold, so incredibly cold.

Blinking, Harrison managed to shift his head so he was staring at the twins, who was deep in talk. "No, I think it's alright now, Sexta. We should not move him anymore now that he has ingested the potion… let's start the ritual and get out of here." Septimus was staring at Harrison as he talked and he smiled kindly when their eyes met. "See, even he is eager to get it started."

Sexta nodded. "Yeah, alright then," Rolling her shoulders, she strolled up to Harrison, who first now noticed he was lying in a circle painted with white pain. There were several intricate symbols and he was lying in the centre. Nothing bode well when one was the centre of a ritual. Sexta kneeled down beside Harrison, where she brushed his hair away from his ears. "Don't worry." She whispered, before she looked away from him.

She closed her eyes firmly and reached her hands over his body. Septimus had strolled up to them without Harrison noticing and was now siting on the other side of Sexta, Harrison placed between them. They linked hands and Septimus too closed his eyes.

Exhaling and inhaling together, there were several minutes of silence before Sexta opened her mouth. "We call thou, who govern life and death." They were speaking simultaneously, and the words seemed eerie. "Thou, the deity of the netherworld," The circle had begun to lighten up, and it was now easy to see the white paint glowing through the darkness. "We call thou forth to judge this vessel." Inhale and exhale, and another string of mumbles too silent for Harrison to make out much of a context. He could not longer feel his body, it felt empty and the pain had subside completely, and had it not been for the knife still in his stomach then Harrison would have thought it had healed.

His eyelids were heavy, slowly lowering and he felt so tired, so ready to just let everything go. Was this death?

The murmuring had stopped, and the room was eerily quiet. The white pain was glowing faintly in the dark, a sign that the ritual had begun and was processing. He felt someone press their lips against both his ears, without doubt Sexta and Septimus, and as the knife was tugged slowly out of his stomach, a process that felt surreal when he was lacking sensation, they whispered the same sentence lovingly into his ears. Dooming him.

"We call thou, Hel."

There were no going back.

* * *

><p>Coughing, Harrison blinked several times before he managed to open his eyes. He felt so incredible tired, as thought he had sept far to little and his body refused to really wake up. He was sitting up again a brick wall, relaxed and cold.<p>

He were at some kind of train station. A station that somehow seemed very familiar. Had he been here before? He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to remember a similar place he had been to earlier in his life. Nothing appeared. He could not remember anything at all. Who was he? He knew his name, but anything else he tried to remember seemed to lurk in the back of his mind without really appearing. It was like forgetting what you were suppose to say. You could remember you and forgotten it, but what it was could not be remembered.

Harrison stared down at his hands - they seemed young and alive, and stood in contrast with the horribly grey area.

The train station was not a place he would go to willingly. It was greying, almost like a corpse, devoid of any real life. Sure there were several greying people sitting down on benches all over the station, but none were moving. It was as thought they had fused with he station, taking the dirty and grey collar of the bricks as they forgot what and who they were. Maybe the had been like him when they first appeared here. Unable to remember anything special, but their names and slowly they became tired, running out of life and in the end they lost the will to think, becoming another brick in the station. Forgotten and abandoned.

Harrison pulled his legs close to his chest. Where were he? He wanted to get out of here, he wanted to go home. But where was home? He conclude that since he wished to go 'home' at all then it had to be a considerably better place than the station.

Glancing above his knees, Harrison stared across the station, studying the people sitting huddled together. Unlike Harrison's, their skin were grey, like everything else, and their eyes empty and cold. A man on the other side of the platform, was sitting still, holding what seemed to be a newspaper in his hands. He sat so still, his eyes unmoving, and his chest not heaving the normal way when a breath was taken. Like a corpse.

Harrison swallowed. It was so cold here, and there were no life. It felt like he was not suppose to be here. He was not welcome here.

A strong gust of wind blew through the station. Papers and dust whirled up, and Harrison forced his eyes shut as sand blew past. A howling sound appeared as it blew through, and only lasted a few seconds before it disappeared.

When Harrison opened his eyes carefully again, he noticed that a small train had appeared at the end of the station, only one cart. It stood out from the grey colours with a scarlet colour with a dash of black pain on the roof.

Harrison furrowed his eyebrows, not remembering when and how it had appeared. Standing carefully up, he stared intently at it. A uniformed man had stepped out of the cart, where he lightened what seemed to be a cigarette. Then he reached up on the side of the cart, and probably pressed a button because a loud booming sound rang across the station.

The atmosphere shifted. The still corpselike people, shifted with he sound and began to move, slowly and tiredly towards the cart. Some shuffled past Harrison towards it while others only glanced towards it before looking down at their hands again. Like they knew it was not their train.

Unsure, Harrison decided to at least go up to the train. There seemed to be a chauffeur there, so maybe he could get some answers.

Carefully approaching the train, while being careful not to bump into any of the moving grey people, he felt anticipation rise. Would the uniformed man have the same greying skin as all the other people or would he look more… alive?

The man was a well fed man, and he had probably gained weight since taking his job as his uniform was sitting tightly against his skin. He had a matched cap on his head, pressed down over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. It was a relief to see that the man was not as pale as the other beings at the station, no he had a much more healthy completion, if a bit pale.

He was standing beside the train's door, smoking and apparently checking tickets as women and men boarded it.

Coughing politely, Harrison walked up to him. "I'm sorry… " What did he want to ask?

The man noticed him, and as soon as he saw Harrison standing there, a huge smile appeared on his face. "Well, if it isn't the soon-to-be Master. I was notified that you would make an appearance by **—** , but **—** did not mention exactly when." He said excitedly, before he laughed goodheartedly.

"…Soon-to-be…" Harrison held his tongue. He had a feeling he would get no explanation and showing his obvious lack of knowledge before he knew more about the man was a bad move. "How can I get away from this station?"

The man's smile faltered impossibly fast. Tipping his hat lower over his already visible eyes, he licked his lips with a disturbingly pitch black tongue. He swallowed, before he turned to check the ticket to a man about to enter.

"What is it? Should I not be here? Where is this? Where are my memories and why can't I remember anything at all?" Harrison asked as confident as he managed.

The man swallowed again. "I apologise, I was not aware over the fact that you're this young. I thought you had come here on your own and not sent here… which explains… Well, you'll get the answer to that in some years I believe." He replied evenly as he glanced around the platform.

"Can you not answer it now?" Harrison forced out, getting irritated by the entire situation. He felt powerless. And he did not like the feeling.

"Hmmm… I… you're not 'Harry' yet… And even if you're currently borrowing some abilities, **—** can't give you the privilege to gain anything else… not until you're finished with the 'Harrison' phrase… so I cannot give you information you should not know yet… though when you're 'Harry' you can ask me all you want and I'll reply honestly - you know what I mean," No, Harrison did not know a thing. Even if he tried to analyse the man's words, they still did not make sense. He was not 'Harry' and he could not be given information until he is finished with _the Harrison phrase_? What did that even mean?

"How do I even get out of here if you can't tell me anything?" He asked carefully.

The man hummed in response to his question, bit did not answer. "Tell me what you can tell me then." Harrison ordered.

Once again administrating a ticket, it took several seconds for the man to lock back at Harrison. "This is a test administered, not by the two unfortunate souls in the classroom, but by **—** …" He whispered. "Find the door, soon-to-be Master."

Tipping his head, the man stepped aboard the train and closed the door before Harrison could ask anything more of him. He smiled kindly for a minute, and then he looked away. Once again a strong gust of wind swept through the station, blowing several specs of into Harrison's eyes. Closing them in pain, Harrison blinked to clear them. When he once again could see, the train was gone.

'Find the door,' What door? There were infinite doors at the station. Sighing, Harrison wondered if he could ask some of the silent people, but thought again, because it did not seem like any of them would move or talk any time soon.

So, the only possibility he had was to find 'the door'.

And Harrison began his search. It began with trying every stair he could find in the building, and at the end of the stairs there were either another stair leading down to the platform again or a dead end. There were never any door, just openings leading back down to the platform or into a white space with no real bottom. Harrison had no desire to try his luck by jumping, so he kept trying. From there he tried to find anything that could remind him of a window, but again there were only a few empty and too small openings int he brick wall. Then, he tried to find the exit or the entrance, whatever he found first, but as it was soon discovered that there were no such thing. The station was positioned on what seemed to be a very large bottomless sea of pitch black water.

There were no doors.

None at all.

Harrison sat easily down beside an immobile woman, staring unimpressed into the air. Glancing at he woman, he grimaced. Maybe that was how he would end up if he did not make it out of the station. Grey, immobile and so much like a corpse.

Standing up, suddenly angry, he marched along the platform. Annoyed and having no other way of dealing with his feelings. There were no exits, so how could he find a door?

Looking around the station hurriedly, he tried to find anything, anything at all, that did not fit into the picture. He had done it several times before, and he knew that there was nothing.

However, it seemed as though this time had something different than the other times he had looked around. As he glanced around, his eyes met with a young, and still worrisome grey, girl, who was sitting at a bench by a rather huge mirror. Had the mirror been there before? Harrison had no memory of it.

Her eyes were clear blue, and the fact that they were blue was startling, because as far as Harrison had seen everyone in the station had grey or totally back irises. Swallowing, he glanced away from here before looking back. Yes, she was staring at him.

Not the one to back down from a possible escape, Harrison began to walk slowly towards her. He stopped about a meter form where she was sitting on a large, and, of course, grey luggage.

"Hi…" He raised his hand rather awkwardly. She gave no response but to stare intently into his eyes. Fuck, she was beginning to be creepy. "Mmm… you wouldn't know a way out, would you?" He asked quietly, momentarily looking past her into the mirror at the brick wall beside her.

There was nothing remarkable about the mirror, it showed exactly what it was reflecting. The girl, the station and him. Yes, nothing special… wait, did he have glasses on? Furrowing his eyebrows, Harrison walked past the girl, closer to the mirror so he could brush his hand against it.

He did have glasses on, some rather horrible round glasses. Harrison brush his hand against his nose, and found that he had no glasses on. It could not be a picture, because it reflected everything else at the station, everything but him. He was almost the same height, but he seemed a bit more fit, and he was much more tanned than he was when he glanced down at his hands. Blinking, the same action was repeated in the mirror.

_"Jump._" Harrison whirled around, staring shocked at the short, blond girl, who had turned her head to look at him. She had spoken. Spoken in a breathy, sandy voice devoid of any emotions.

"What?" He murmured, but once again she only stared silently at him. Alright, nothing more from her it seemed.

_'Jump'._

Jump where exactly? Harrison turned towards the mirror once again, placing his hand against the horrible cold surface of the mirror.

_'Jump'. _

Harrison bumped his head against the surface, closing his eyes in frustration.

_'Jump'._

Looking up at it, he stared into eyes framed by horrible glasses. The reflection made no sense. How could this be real at all? His eyes widened at the thought and he pushed his hand forcefully against the surface. That was it. Harrison stared at his hand.

"This is not real." He whispered.

It felt as though he was sinking into mud, and once his hand was inside he could not retract it. The mirror had lost its firmness and now Harrison was being consumed by it. He was falling. The platform, the station and every living corpse was disappearing into darkness.

It slithered across the darkness, reaching him in a breathy voice, almost lovingly.

**"Harry… Harrison… Soon, yes, soon… Do not be hasty… You will die soon enough."**

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><p><strong>To be continued!<strong>

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	18. XVIII

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the long wait, but finally it here; the next chapter! It's not as long as my other chapters, but I just wanted to get it out there.  
>I've had so much going on this year, just finished high school - that's my first excuse.<br>I also moved across borders - from my flat country of Denmark to England! So, expect an improvement in both grammar and writing by the end of this year. Or at least I hope it'll improve.  
>Oh, this chapter haven't been beta read, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. Wrote this in the middle of the night - so I apologize for any horrific mistake.<br>Well then enough talking on my part, enjoy!

**Warning:** graphic description of violence.

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><p><strong>The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me - Ayn Rand <strong>

Nothing exist in darkness for long. Not without giving up something that was supposed to be lost or forgotten. Yes, Harrison was sure of this as he stared into the void of darkness. Every memory and self-pitying emotion he was sure didn't exist were at the verge of breaking the dam. The dam of arrogance, powerlessness and childish believes that was shrouded in a veil of adulthood. Death, it seemed, had a tendency to force confrontation.

No boundaries or underlying cultural expectations were hindering the process of flaying him. Harrison would have cried and screamed if he had any sensation of his body. However, this was inevitable. Harrison Law was a spectator for his own execution. The resistance to actively get answers and his everlasting habit of making everything into a puzzle were revealed.

His breath was speeding up, his lungs constricting under the force of nonexistent air being forced though them at a grueling speed. A freezing air was numbing his twitching fingers and denying him the warmth of delusion. This wasn't fair. A young man - a child - was not supposed to be confronted by his egotistical delusions of himself. It wasn't just.

Harrison clenched his teeth together, grinding them together as he curled up in a fetal position. His nails dug into his skin, but no pain registered in his mind, only the constant assault of his own frame of mind. The constant thought of the injustice of it all halted and Harrison pondered the life of every being he had known. There was nothing justified about death. It just _was._

_If nothing was just,_ then why even hang on to the concept? Even if he offered his flesh and blood there was no certainty that he would be rewarded. Cassandra had not given him more warmth and affection when he succeeded. Would he ever be recognized in a world that had no desire for him? Wizards were human beings just like him. Harrison could never accept his mother and people that had wronged him or beings he considered of lesser intelligence than himself. How could he ever expect Wizards to be able to welcome him, when he was incapable of such acceptance?

Tears swelled up around the corner of his eyes and bubbled out into the vacuum, floating like pearls in the void.

Justice doesn't exist, he thought in silence acceptance. There was no one in the void but a young child of twelve trying and failing to be someone else. He had deluded himself into believing that if he waited long enough everything would be solved. A long-lost father, he had tried to erase, would appear and rescue him from a life of impurity and struggle. The world he had been born into would be remade in his image and Harrison would live without offering blood and bone for small favors.

However, now that that void was swallowing him whole he could see clearly. There was no other life waiting for him around the corner. He was a self-pitying little child eating his own flesh. Self-destructive in his hopeful dreams.

The droplets that were dancing in the empty space multiplied by the minute. Now that he was a factory of illuminating pearls, Harrison had no qualms of controlling his sorrow, his despair.

The station of departure had taken away his being and then forced it back inside the box. And now that his intestines had been rearranged the illusions had shattered.

In the darkness the lost and denied was consumed. Nothing could stay hidden in the shadows of the mind.

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><p>Heavy lids blinked open in disorientation. A dense weight of the earths atmosphere was resting on his eyes, waking him up with its presence. And down into his lungs slithered a cold air, spreading new life in leaden limbs. With the resurrection of sensation a frigid feeling shoot through his body, resulting in a gasping breath and dilated pupils.<p>

The grey ceiling above him was just as dead as it had been before his unfortunate accident. However, now that he once again occupied space in his skeleton he felt that it was unfair to describe it as 'dead'. 'Ghostly' would be more illustrative of its color and shape.

Harrison rolled his head to the side, feeling the cold floor's solidity beneath him. He was aware over the fact that he should be confused over his sudden revival from the hands of death, but what would he gain by asking? Death was a being that had remained unknown thorough history. What would a young child gain by examining the non-examinable?

Slowly, he brushed his hand over his stomach, sensing the crusted blood and lack of an entry wound. A proof of his death and resurrection, but for what price? Nothing in this world came without repercussion. An escape from death had to be pricey.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he glanced tiredly around the room. It was blissfully empty, not a weasel in sight. Harrison was unsure if this was a blessing or a curse. He was not sure what he would do if he saw them. Just as the thought passed, a soft murmuring reached his sensitive ears. Slithering across the floor like sickening snakes, the voices of a boy and a girl.

He swallowed forcibly, feeling the raging emotions shifting beneath his skin. In a rush he shoved himself up and inhaled slowly. Nothing could hinder him now. His ideas of justice had crumbled in the void, in death. The wild desires controlling his body had nothing to do with what they deserved anymore. It wasn't justice that edged him on. It was not his ideas of fairness that inched him to pull a forgotten ritual knife up from the floor, still coated in dried blood. It was a personification of anger and selfish desires for suffering.

The twins were just two unfortunate beings who happened to have released a monster. Human beings were, after all, not supposed to die and return. It went against the rules of nature and time. And now a price had to be paid.

The knife was heavy and cold in his pulsing hand. It had properties and capabilities a wand didn't process. The ability to carve slowly or cut cleanly. Harrison had to close his eyes momentarily, trying to control the impulses sent from an item created to draw blood. It was thirsty and he had no desire to let it go before they both had had their fill.

A pleasant shudder went through his very being. He felt liberated.

The room had darkened considerably since death had taken him. Hours had passed by as he had spent years in a world of corpses and nothingness. Harrison rolled his shoulders and strolled silently towards the closed oak door. Listening to the whispers of the castle.

"Sexta, please… More," A soft moan danced though the air, then a breathless laugh. "Maybe… Higher… I could use his pretty skin as a pillowcase? Hmmm, yes - a good way of preserving his being… ah," Shuffling followed by gulps of air. "His beauty… in death… though a failure," Septimus gasped in pleasure, and he could hear Sexta hum in pleasure.

Harrison was standing in front of the door, silently. The movement and gasps from the twins originated from the other side. Only a wall of wood and splinters hindered him from culling his desires. For a moment he questioned how much of his sanity had followed him back from the train station. No embarrassment or uncertainty had swelled up at the sound of the pleasured twins, not a single speck, only a clear awareness of his hunger. Well, he had once heard that if you could question your own sanity, then there was still some left. There was nothing to worry about, at least not until he lost his ability to question his own soundness of mind.

Stepping closer to the door, he leaned against it and pushed his ear close to the wood. "Septimus…" Soft and feminine, the sound of his executioner. Harrison inhaled and closed his eyes, willing darkness and putrefaction to swell inside the room. The door cracked and splintered slightly, losing its solidity as the seconds passed by. Not hesitating a minute longer, Harrison pushed the knife into the door. It plunged though shriveling oak, cutting wood like butter.

He had no sense of direction, nor a notion of the thickness of the door. The only thing guiding him was a piercing image of flesh parting in the wake of the blade. Screaming and crying, the oak lost its form. Slowly, he became aware over the fact that the horrible voice of agony didn't originate from the door, but rather from a sharp object piercing warm, unblemished skin, followed by a painful whimper.

The oak door was nothing more than a ruble of splinters and shreds, it had crumbled completely under the push of time. Harrison was leaning against a warm body taller than himself and the knife was pushing bewitching liquid out to into the world.

"Septimus!" A cry colored by delight. It disappointed Harrison immensely that no scream of panic and worry boomed though the corridor.

Stepping back, he pulled the knife our off the boy, resulting in a pained groan. Glancing up, he saw Sexta standing a few meters away from them, eyes alight in pure joy. Her shirt was unbuttoned exhibiting a slightly tanned chest. The chest of a young woman with years to grow.

Septimus stumbled, falling down on his knees as his breath came out in ragged pants. Harrison felt no satisfaction. The wicked smile on the boy's lips stole his desire and left him standing numb. Studying the gushing blood, Harrison knew he had missed his target. There were no important intestines at the hip, if anything the injury was only a superficial wound. How infuriating.

"I knew it, this was the price - this is how we'll set you free," Sexta was shaking, her body thrumming in ecstasy. Eyes without a shred of stability, she was seeing a reality no one but her brother could see. Septimus too, who had settled down on the floor, laughed breathlessly in pain and euphoria. "You… are magnificent," He whispered, staring passionately at Harrison, who felt cheated. "Let us give you our existence, being of death," Septimus whispered and Sexta nodded frantically. "I - me and my other container - desires it, your wrath." She fell harshly down on her knees, offering her throat to him.

"No," Harrison whispered in reply. They had deprived him of his only desire, he would never give them anything they wanted. If they yearned for death at his hands, then it was the last thing he would give them. And now that he was contemplating his situation, this was for the best. This way there was no chance of him ending up in a tricky situation because he murdered two of his fellow students. Harrison was unsure if underaged wizards could be sentenced to Azkaban. He did not want to see if that was the case.

Inhaling slowly a pleasant smiled pulled at his lips. "Sexta, let me…" Harrison walked past Septimus, who was clutching his hip, up to Sexta. She was engrossed in his very being, not even her wheezing brother could catch her attention. In her mind death was walking up to her, intending to take away her last breath.

"Open your mouth," Harrison whispered as he leaned down upon her. Eyes closing in acceptance, Sexta opened her mouth and tilted her head back, so sure he would slit her throat. The power in his hands was addictive. Sexta was far away in her own world, maybe in the world she believed was connected to her other 'container', her brother. It was almost too easy to slip his hand up to her mouth, catch her soft and mushy tongue and let the knife slide though it. "You revolt me," Harrison whispered as Sexta's eyes flew open and she gurgled in panic. An off-putting scream thundered out of her mouth, lacking the edged produced by a tongue but nonetheless animalistic in its pure torment. It was a wonder no one had found them yet.

The muscle in his hand was still warm and Harrison glanced curiously at it for a moment, uncertain of what to do with it. Sexta was wailing, both of physical and mental pain. Her yearning for death had been denied and now thick tears was rolling down her cheek.

Harrison glanced down at Septimus, who was staring up at him in wonder. "You won't let us give you this?" He asked in puzzlement, as though it was unimaginable that someone could refuse their gift of death.

"No," Harrison whispered, letting the tongue slips from his fingers. "I can't… Not as long as you desire it." Deflated and exhausted, he had no energy to spare.

Staring down at Sexta, who was slowly bleeding out the floor, Harrison realized there was a chance that it would kill her. "Where's my wand?" He murmured to Septimus, who was glancing at his sister in silence. A chuckle. "It's still in your pocket, beauty," Septimus smiled weakly, without his sister's bundle of buzzing craziness he was calm and collected. "I never touched it…" A gasp as he rolled onto his back."It was there the entire time."

Harrison brushed his left hand against his right pocket and, indeed, felt the contour of his beloved wand. A wand had failed him at his most vulnerable, when he thought about it. He looked down at the bloodied knife; it had done its duty. Stepping back, he crouched down beside Septimus. "If you don't mind," He held the knife out to Septimus. "Could you…?" The question was left open, but it was clear that Septimus understood what Harrison asked of him when he nodded slowly. The knife and its actions would remain in the corridor, to be forgotten and hidden.

"Sure," Soft and certain he took the knife from Harrison's hand. "She would be pleased." His eyes flickered to his groaning sister. Harrison stared at her silently.

"However…. an eye for an eye... do something." Septimus said after a pause, eyes digging into Harrison.

Taking out his wand, Harrison considered his possibilities. He didn't know any healing spells, so it was impossible to halt the blood flow for him by healing. However, he had another way of hindering Sexta bleeding to death. Inhaling slowly, he stood. "I'm not sorry," He began. "I don't know any healing spells, but I do know a way of stopping the blood-loss. If agony on her part is worth it, then I'll save her life."

Septimus closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. "I know of-" He murmured before Harrison sighed. He was too tired for this.

"I said 'I'm not sorry' and by that I mean that this is the only way I'll even consider saving her - I don't want to learn any spell from you." He took his wand out of his pocket, getting ready for the inescapable reply.

"Do it," Septimus groaned in acceptance.

Nodding, Harrison walked up to Sexta, who was lying silently at the floor now, only twitching slightly and whimpering. He sat down beside her and pushed her over on her back, tipping her head backwards so he could open her mouth. Pondering his actions for a second, Harrison crawled on her so he was sitting on the top of her chest, hindering any movement. As he glanced into her open mouth, he noticed that he had cut off more than he had expected. There was little left in her mouth but a small stump.

Swallowing in trepidation, he held his wand against her bleeding tongue and whispered the incarnation of the spell. His free hand was gripping her jaw, fingers digging into her chin and forcing her mouth to stay open. The tip of the wand heated instantly, a burning bulb flamed up and began to burn the open wound, closing it by destroying the tissue. Fizzling, the nauseous smell of burn flesh hit him like a punch to the gut. Sexta's eyes flew open and she twisted underneath him, a tortured gurgle the only sound she managed to create. When he only saw cauterized skin he halted and withdrawing his wand. Sweat ran down his nose, dripping down into Sexta's heated skin. She was no longer bleeding freely.

He swallowed as he glanced down at her. Stretched out and deep in her own subconsciousness, Sexta was normal without large cracks in her being. Harrison crawled off her and stood up, dead on his feet.

"I trust this will not leave the corridor," He murmured, unsure if it was best to order or ask the boy. Septimus stared into his forest green eyes, for a moment, lost in the connection they had, before he nodded slowly. "Yes, it's for the best," and it was.

"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," Harrison repeated after Septimus's words minutes earlier. "we both took equally. If anything I think you two got off lightly - the price of the ritual… will be paid by me. I expect so at least…" He muttered.

Septimus snickered slightly. "Yes, it seems like you gained years while away," The corridor was lightened up by the moon outside. A pale and cold light, piercing in its intensity.

Harrison nodded slowly. "Years did pass by… Soon, for all I know, the price has to be paid. After all, death comes to all, even the undead." His eyes slid shut slowly and he blinked tiredly. "I do hope you'll save yourself… I," A yawn. "I'm not spending another minute with you."

"Goodnight," Septimus whispered. "We'll manage."

A short glance at the boy was enough to know they both would make it out alive. Septimus's wound was a minor injury. Harrison turned around and began to trudge heavily along the window rows. He couldn't understand why Septimus didn't heal Sexta himself. The boy was certainly well enough to do it.

Oh well, contemplating what could-have-been-done and what could-have-happened never helped anyone. Now his only desire was a good night sleep.

Everything he had delayed could wait until the sun rose.

Everyone he had ignored could wait until it warmed the castle with its heat.

Death, too, would have to wait.

Harrison stayed awake for none.

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><p>Dietrich was mystified. As a man of education he often viewed himself as an intelligent being, especially in comparison with his unfortunate and impure wife.<p>

Having been rejected by his parents just because of a lack of spark, he knew the hardships of life. A squib was, of course, not directly thrown out by the pureblood community, but they were, when hitting their 17th year, advised to leave. Dietrich had denied the rules forced upon him and spent year upon year trying to be accepted for his intelligence, but to no avail. He was to be looked down upon like a filthy muggle. All because he was born without a core of magic.

And while he did understand the humiliation it had brought upon his family, and his beautiful, accepting sister, he saw no reason for them to treat him like a bloodless creature. He did, in fact, have the genes and blood in perfect condition. Pure and noble, his physical body was a creation of ages of saintly breeding. Nothing but the best coursing through his veins. It had humiliated, shamed and deflated his very soul, to lose his rightful place as the heir of the family.

Of course, it was all a part of a past he had been delighted to let go off. And marrying a horrific woman 20 years younger was a necessary evil when trying to experience a 'typical' muggle life in London. It was all very exiting. Now at his prime, 78 years were by no means old when looking at the lifespan of wizards, he felt ready to explore the world and its possibilities.

The 17-year long holiday in the Muggle world had been delightful.

He suckled at his bottom lip, a tendency created after he noticed how much it appalled his beloved Bertie, and stared down at the letter in his hand. The picture of Freyja and her boy had baffled him at first, but Dietrich knew that if played right he had a chance of gaining the attention of the absolute elite of Germany. The one and only Wichard von Geier. Oh, Dietrich felt like the tide finally had turned. This was his time!

There were many unanswered questions on his part, but his sharp intellect and piercing insight had supplied him with endless theories. Yes, he knew what he could gain. Freyja had somehow managed to give birth to a child and after his dimwitted wife had contributed with the boy's age, Dietrich knew that the child could be none other than Wichard's.

He grinned, revealing rows of yellowing and blackening teeth threatening to fall out. The letter revealed only enough to drag the man to his porch begging for information. Wichard would come. And yes, Dietrich felt that he was at first name basis with the man since he had spoken to him once at a party where they both had been drunk enough to laugh at his squib-ness and Wichard's lying wife.

The pure and quite handsome man would come pleading for details about his son. A son Freyja had assured the man never could be carried by her incapable, infertile body.

Indeed, a life of injustice and discrimination had taught Dietrich to take every opportunity given to him.

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><p><strong>To be continued!<strong>

**Please leave a review on your way out!**


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